o 


THE  LIBRARY 

OF 

THE  UNIVERSITY 

OF  CALIFORNIA 

LOS  ANGELES 


....Portsmouth  gave  at  least  three  men  of 
letters  to  the  nineteenth  century :  Charles 
Dickens,  Sir  Walter  Besant  and  George  Mere- 
dith. A  cousin  of  the  last  of  these  writers 
contributes  to  The  Fortnightly  Review  for 
April  a  paper  on  "George  Meredith  and  His 
Relatives,"  which  will  be  welcomed  as  throw- 
ing some  light  upon  a  life  about  which  a  veil 
of  ignorance  has  long  hung.  In  Captain  Mar- 
ryat's  "Peter  Simple"  there  is  mention  of 
"Meredith  the  tailor,"  who  promised  "that  by 
the  next  morning  we  should  be  fitted  com- 
plete." This  Meredith  was  Melchizedek  Mere- 
dith, grandfather  of  the  poet  and  novelist. 
His  tailoring  establishment  at  73  High  street, 
Portsmouth,  was  known  to  all  the  world,  and 
he  was  himself  the  original  of  "the  Great  Mel" 
in  "Evari  Harrington."  He  kept  horses  and 
hunted;  he  was  initiated  as  a  Freemason  in 
the  Phoenix  Lodge,  Portsmouth,  as  "a  gen- 
tleman"; in  1801  he  was  an  officer  in  the  Ports- 
mouth Yeomanry  Cavalry.  George  Meredith's 
father,  Augustus,  was  a  less  notable  person, 
filially  described  as  "a  muddler  and  a  fool." 
Of  his  mother,  Meredith  said  to  Mr.  Edward 
Clodd :  "She  was  of  Irish  origin,  handsome, 
refined  and  witty.  I  think  there  must  have 
been  some  Saxon  strain  in  the  ancestry  to 
account  for  a  virility  of  temperament  which 
corrected  the  Celtic  in  me."  But  Meredith's 
mother,  Jane  Macnamara,  daughter  of  Michael 
Macnamara,  died  when  he  was  only  five  years 
old;  and  five  years  later  he  was  sent  away 
from  Portsmouth  and  placed  in  a  school  of 
which  his  chief  recollection  was  "three  dreary 
services  on  Sunday  ;  the  giving  out  of  books  be- 
ing the  signal  to  me  for  inventing  tales  of  the* 
St.  George  and  dragon  type.  I  was  fond  of 
the  'Arabian  Nights,'  and  this  doubtless  fed 
an  imagination  which  took  shape  in  'The 
Shaving  of  Shagpat"."  At  about  fifteen  the 
boy  Meredith  was  sent  to  school  at  Neuwied, 
Germany,  and  there  are  echoes  of  his  German 
experiences  in  "The  Adventures  of  Harry 
Richmond."  Reading  Mr.  Ellis's  contribution 
to  The  Fortnightly  not  only  teaches  one  a  lit- 
tle something  of  .Meredith's  early  surround- 
ings and  of  his  forbears,  but  crushes   for  all 

•time  the  legend  which  hinted  at  a  mystery  in 
the  novelist's  birth :  uce  variant  ^avmg  named 
the  poet  Arthur  CShaughnessya^   h,s   paternal 

narcnt. 


EYAN  HAERINGTON 


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EVAN    HARRINGTON 


0  i^obel 


BT 

GEORGE  MEREDITH 


^» 


REVISED  EDITION 


NEW   YORK 
CHARLES  SCRIBNER'S  SONS 
1909 


COPYRIGHT,    1896,  BY 
GEORGE  MEREDITH 


College 
JJ.brary 


CONTENTS 


OHAF.  PAGX 

I.      ABOVE  BUTTONS 1 

II.      THE   HERITAGE   OF   THE   SOX 8 

Ui.      THE   DAUGHTERS   OF   THE   SHEARS       ....  16 

IV.      ON  BOARD   THE  JOCASTA 25 

V.      THE   FAMILY  AND   THE   FUNERAL         ....  40 

VI.      MY  GENTLEMAN  ON   THE   ROAD  .....  49 

VII.      MOTHER   AND   SON  .  .  .  .  .  .  .57 

Vm.      INTRODUCES   AN   ECCENTRIC 71 

IX.      THE   COUNTESS   IN  LOW  SOCIETY           ....  84 

X.      MY  GENTLEMAN   ON   THE  ROAD  AGAIN        ...  96 

XI.      DOINGS  AT  AN   INN 105 

XII.      IN   WHICH   ALE    IS    SHOWN    TO    HAVE    ONE    QUALITY 

OF   WINE 113 

Xin.      THE   MATCH   OF   FALLOWFIELD   AGAINST  BECKLEY    .  124 

XIV.      THE  COUNTESS   DESCRIBES   THE  FIELD   OF   ACTION    .  143 

XV.      A   CAPTURE 154 

XVI.      LEADS   TO  A*  SMALL   SKIRMISH  BETWEEN    ROSE    AND 

EVAN            '. 161 

XVn.      IN  WHICH   EVAN  WRITES   HIMSELF   TAILOR          .           .  171 

J^VIII.      IN  WHICH  EVAN  CALLS   HIMSELF   GENTLEMAN.           .  184 

V 


70044  v3 


71  CONTENTS 

OBAP.  PAS! 

XIX.      SECOND  DESPATCH   OF   THE   COUNTESS   .           .           .  200 

XX.      BREAK-NECK   LEAP 206 

XXI.      TRIBULATIONS   AND   TACTICS   OF   THE   COUNTESS  .  214 

XXII.      IN  WHICH   THE   DAUGHTERS   OF    THE    GREAT    MEL 

HAVE   TO   DIGEST   HIM   AT   DINNER      .           .           .  224 

XXIII.  TREATS   OF   A    HANDKERCHIEF          ....  235 

XXIV.  THE   COUNTESS    MAKES   HERSELF   FELT              .           .  243 
XXV.      IN     WHICH     THE     STREAM     FLOWS     MUDDY     AND 

CLEAR 251 

XXVI.      MRS.     MEL     MAKES     A     BED     FOR     HERSELF    AND 

FAMILY 265 

XXVII.      EXHIBITS     rose's      GENERALSHIP  ;     EVAN'S      PER- 
FORMANCE ON  THE   SECOND   FIDDLE  ;   AND  THE 

WRETCHEDNESS   OF   THE   COUNTESS    .           .           .  279 

XXVIII.      TOM  COGQLESBY'S  PROPOSITION      ....  290 

XXIX.      PRELUDE   TO   AN   ENGAGEMENT        ....  297 

XXX.      THE   BATTLE   OF   THE   BULL-DOGS.      PART   I.  .           .  312 

XXXI.      THE   BATTLE   OF   THE   BULL-DOGS.      PART   II.           .  327 
XXXII.      IN    WHICH     EVAN'S    LIGHT    BEGINS     TO    TWINKLE 

AGAIN 340 

XXXIII.  THE   HERO   TAKES   HIS  RANK  IN  THE  ORCHESTRA  351 

XXXIV.  A   PAGAN   SACRIFICE 364 

XXXV.      ROSE   WOUNDED 372 

XXXVI.      BEFORE   BREAKFAST 376 

XXXVII.      THE   RETREAT   FROM   BECKLEY         ....  882 

XXXVIIl.      IN  WHICH  WE   HAVE   TO  SEE  IN  THE  DARK             .  395 

XXXIX.      IN  THE   DOMAIN   OF   TAILORDOM     ....  401 


CONTENTS  VU 

CHAP.  PA6R 

XL.      IN  WHICH   THE   COUNTESS   STILL   SCENTS   GAME           .  408 
XLI.      REVEALS   AN   ABOMINABLE  PLOT  OF  THE  BROTHERS 

COGGLESBY 419 

XLII.      JULIANA 428 

XLIII.      ROSE 431 

XLIV.      CONTAINS   A   WARNING   TO   ALL   CONSPIRATORS             .  439 
XLV.      IN    WHICH     THE     SHOP    BECOMES     THE    CENTRE    OF 

ATTRACTION 452 

XLVI.      A    LOVERS'   PARTING 461 

XLVII.      A     YEAR     LATER,     THE     COUNTESS     DE     SALDAR     DE 

SANCORVO  TO  HER  SISTER  CAROLINE  .          .          .  469 


EVAN  HARRINGTON 


CHAPTER  I 

ABOVE   BUTTONS 


Long  after  the  hours  when  tradesmen  are  in  the  habit  of 
commencing  business,  the  shutters  of  a  certain  shop  in  the 
town  of  Lymport-on-the-Sea  remained  significantly  closed, 
and  it  became  known  that  death  had  taken  Mr.  Melchisedec 
Harrington,  and  struck  one  off  the  list  of  living  tailors.  The 
demise  of  a  respectable  member  of  this  class  does  not  ordi- 
narily create  a  profound  sensation.  He  dies,  and  his  equals 
debate  who  is  to  be  his  successor :  while  the  rest  of  them  who 
have  come  in  contact  with  him,  very  probably  hear  nothing 
of  his  great  launch  and  final  adieu  till  the  winding  up  of  cash- 
accounts  ;  on  which  occasions  we  may  augur  that  he  is  not 
often  blessed  by  one  or  other  of  the  two  great  parties  who  sub- 
divide this  universe.  In  the  case  of  Mr.  Melchisedec  it  was 
otherwise.  This  had  been  a  grand  man,  despite  his  calling, 
and  in  the  teeth  of  opprobrious  epithets  against  his  craft.  To 
be  both  generally  blamed,  and  generally  liked,  evinces  a 
peculiar  construction  of  mortal.  Mr.  Melchisedec,  whom 
people  in  private  called  the  great  Mel,  had  been  at  once  the 
sad  dog  of  Lymport,  and  the  pride  of  the  town.  He  was  a 
tailor,  and  he  kept  horses ;  he  was  a  tailor,  and  he  had  gallant 
adventures ;  he  was  a  tailor,  and  he  shook  hands  with  his 
customers.  Finally,  he  was  a  tradesman,  and  he  never  was 
known  to  have  sent  in  a  bill.  Such  a  personage  comes  but 
once  in  a  generation,  and,  when  he  goes,  men  miss  the  man 
as  well  as  their  money. 


2  EVAN  HARRINGTOis 

That  he  was  dead,  there  could  be  no  doubt.  Kilne,  the 
publican  opposite,  had  seen  Sally,  one  of  the  domestic 
servants,  come  out  of  the  house  in  the  early  morning  and 
rush  up  the  street  to  the  doctor's,  tossing  her  hands ;  and  she, 
not  disinclined  to  dilute  her  grief,  had,  on  her  return,  related 
that  her  master  was  then  at  his  last  gasp,  and  had  refused,  in 
so  many  words,  to  swallow  the  doctor. 

"  '  I  won't  swallow  the  doctor  ! '  he  says,  '  I  won't  swallow 
the  doctor ! ' "  Sally  moaned.  "  *  I  never  touched  him,'  he 
says,  *  and  I  never  will.' " 

Kilne  angrily  declared,  that  in  his  opinion,  a  man  who 
rejected  medicine  in  extremity,  ought  to  have  it  forced  down 
his  throat:  and  considering  that  the  invalid  was  pretty 
deeply  in  Kilne's  debt,  it  naturally  assumed  the  form  of  a 
dishonest  act  on  his  part ;  but  Sally  scornfully  dared  any 
one  to  lay  hand  on  her  master,  even  for  his  own  good. 
"  For,"  said  she,  "  he's  got  his  eyes  awake,  though  he  do  lie 
so  helpless.     He  marks  ye !  " 

"  Ah !  ah ! "  Kilne  sniffed  the  air.  Sally  then  rushed 
back  to  her  duties. 

"  Now,  there's  a  man ! "  Kilne  stuck  his  hands  in  his 
pockets  and  began  his  meditation  :  which,  however,  was  cut 
short  by  the  approach  of  his  neighbour  Barnes,  the  butcher, 
to  whom  he  confided  what  he  had  heard,  and  who  ejaculated 
professionally,  "  Obstinate  as  a  pig ! "  As  they  stood  to- 
gether they  beheld  Sally,  a  figure  of  telegraph,  at  one  of 
the  windows,  implying  that  all  was  just  over. 

"  Amen !  "  said  Barnes,  as  to  a  matter-of-fact  affair. 

Some  minutes  after,  the  two  were  joined  by  Grossby,  the 
confectioner,  who  listened  to  the  news,  and  observed : 

"  Just  like  him  !  I'd  have  sworn  he'd  never  take  doctor's 
stuff ; "  and,  nodding  at  Kilne,  "  liked  his  medicine  best, 
eh?" 

"  Had  a  —  hem !  —  good  lot  of  it,"  muttered  Kilne,  with  a 
suddenly  serious  brow. 

"How  does  he  stand  on  your  books?"  asked  Barnes. 

Kilne  shouldered  round,  crying:  "Who  the  deuce  is  to 
know?" 

"  /don't,"  Grossby  sighed.  "  In  he  comes  with  his  'Good 
morning,  Grossby, —  fine  day  for  the  hunt,  Grossby,' and  a 
ten-pound  note.   'Have  the  kindness  to  put  that  down  in 


ABOVE  BUTTONS  S 

my  favour,  Grossby . '  And  just  as  I  am  going  to  say,  'Look 
here, — this  won't  do,'  he  has  me  by  the  collar,  and  there's 
one  of  the  regiments  going  to  give  a  supper  party,  which 
he's  to  order;  or  the  Admiral's  wife  wants  the  receipt  for 
that  pie;  or  in  comes  my  wife,  and  there's  no  talking  of 
business  then,  though  she  may  have  been  bothering  about 
his  account  all  the  night  beforehand.  Something  or  other! 
and  so  we  run  on." 

"What  I  want  to  know,"  said  Barnes,  the  butcher,  "is 
where  he  got  his  tenners  from?  " 

Kilne  shook  a  sagacious  head :  "  No  knowing !  " 

"I  suppose  we  shall  get  something  out  of  the  fire?" 
Barnes  suggested. 

"  That  depends !  "  answered  the  emphatic  Kilne. 

"  But,  you  know,  if  the  widow  carries  on  the  business, " 
said  Grossby,  "  there's  no  reason  why  we  shouldn't  get  it 
all,  eh?" 

"  There  ain't  two  that  can  make  clothes  for  nothing,  and 
make  a  profit  out  of  it, "  said  Kilne. 

"  That  young  chap  in  Portugal,"  added  Barnes,  "  he  won't 
take  to  tailoring  when  he  comes  home.  D'ye  think  he 
will?" 

Kilne  muttered :  "  Can't  say ! "  and  Grossby,  a  kindly 
creature  in  his  way,  albeit  a  creditor,  reverting  to  the  first 
subject  of  their  discourse,  ejaculated,  "  But  what  a  one  he 
was!  —  eh?" 

"Fine! — to  look  on,"  Kilne  assented. 

"Well,  he  was  like  a  Marquis,"  said  Barnes. 

Here  the  three  regarded  each  other,  and  laughed,  though 
not  loudly.  They  instantly  checked  that  unseemliness,  and 
Kilne,  as  one  who  rises  from  the  depths  of  a  calculation 
with  the  sum  in  his  head,  spoke  quite  in  a  different  voice : 

"Well,  what  do  you  say,  gentlemen?  shall  we  adjourn? 
No  use  standing  here." 

By  the  invitation  to  adjourn,  it  was  well  understood  by 
the  committee  Kilne  addressed,  that  they  were  invited  to 
pass  his  threshold,  and  partake  of  a  morning  draught. 
Barnes,  the  butcher,  had  no  objection  whatever,  and  if 
Grossby,  a  man  of  milder  make,  entertained  any,  the  occa- 
sion and  common  interests  to  be  discussed,  advised  him  to 
waive  them.     In  single  file  these  mourners  entered  the 


4  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

publican's  house,  where  Kilne,  after  summoning  them  from 
behind  the  bar,  on  the  important  question,  what  it  should 
be?  and  receiving,  first,  perfect  acquiescence  in  his  views 
as  to  what  it  should  be,  and  then  feeble  suggestions  of  the 
drink  best  befitting  that  early  hour  and  the  speaker's  par- 
ticular constitution,  poured  out  a  toothful  to  each,  and  one 
to  himself, 

"  Here's  to  him,  poor  fellow ! "  said  Kilne ;  and  was 
deliberately  echoed  twice. 

"Now,  it  wasn't  that,"  Kilne  pursued,  pointing  to  the 
bottle  in  the  midst  of  a  smacking  of  lips,  "  that  wasn't  what 
got  him  into  difficulties.  It  was  expensive  luckshries.  It 
was  being  above  his  condition.  Horses !  What's  a  trades- 
man got  to  do  with  horses?  Unless  he's  retired!  Then 
he's  a  gentleman,  and  can  do  as  he  likes.  It's  no  use  try- 
ing to  be  a  gentleman  if  you  can't  pay  for  it.  It  always 
ends  bad.     Why,  there  was  he,  consorting  with  gentlefolks 

—  gay  as  a  lark!     Who  has  to  pay  for  it?" 

.  K line's  fellow-victims  maintained  a  rather  doleful  tribu- 
tary silence. 

"  I'm  not  saying  anything  against  him  now,"  the  publican 
further  observed.  "It's  too  late.  And  there!  I'm  sorry 
he's  gone,  for  one.  He  was  as  kind  a  hearted  a  man  as 
ever  breathed.  And  there !  perhaps  it  was  just  as  much  my 
fault;  I  couldn't  say  'No  '  to  him, — dash  me,  if  I  could!  " 

Lymport  was  a  prosperous  town,  and  in  prosperity  the 
much-despised  British  tradesman  is  not  a  harsh,  he  is  really 
a  well-disposed,  easy  soul,  and  requires  but  management, 
manner,  occasional  instalments  —  just  to  freshen  the  account 

—  and  a  surety  that  he  who  debits  is  on  the  spot,  to  be  a 
right  royal  king  of  credit.  Only  the  account  must  never 
drivel.  Stare  aut  crescere  appears  to  be  his  feeling  on  that 
point,  and  the  departed  Mr.  Melchisedec  undoubtedly  under- 
stood him  there ;  for  the  running  on  of  the  account  looked 
deplorable  and  extraordinary  now  that  Mr.  Melchisedec  was 
no  longer  in  a  position  to  run  on  with  it,  and  it  was  pre- 
cisely his  doing  so  which  had  prevented  it  from  being  brought 
to  a  summary  close  long  before.  Both  Barnes,  the  butcher, 
and  Grossby,  the  confectioner,  confessed  that  they,  too, 
found  it  hard  ever  to  say  "No"  to  him,  and,  speaking 
broadly,  never  could. 


ABOVE  BUTTONS  5 

"Except  once,"  said  Barnes,  "when  he  wanted  me  to  let 
him  have  a  ox  to  roast  whole  out  on  the  common,  for  the 
Battle  of  Waterloo.  I  stood  out  against  him  on  that. 
*No,  no,'  says  I,  'I'll  joint  him  for  ye,  Mr.  Harrington. 
You  shall  have  him  in  joints,  and  eat  him  at  homej'  — 
ha!  ha!" 

"  Just  like  him ! "  said  Grossby,  with  true  enjoyment  of 
the  princely  disposition  that  had  dictated  the  patriotic 
order. 

"Oh! — there!"  Kilne  emphasized,  pushing  out  his  arm 
across  the  bar,  as  much  as  to  say,  that  in  anything  of  such 
a  kind,  the  great  Mel  never  had  a  rival. 

"That  'Marquis '  affair  changed  him  a  bit,"  said  Barnes. 

"Perhaps  it  did,  for  a  time,"  said  Kilne.  "What's  in 
the  grain,  you  know.  He  couldn't  change.  He  would  be 
a  gentleman,  and  nothing'd  stop  him." 

"  And  I  shouldn't  wonder  but  what  that  young  chap  out 
in  Portugal  '11  want  to  be  one,  too;  though  he  didn't  bid 
fair  to  be  so  fine  a  man  as  his  father." 

"More  of  a  scholar,"  remarked  Kilne.  "That  I  call  his 
worst  fault  —  shilly-shallying  about  that  young  chap.  I 
mean  his."  Kilne  stretched  a  finger  toward  the  dead  man's 
house.  "First,  the  young  chap's  to  be  sent  into  the  Navy; 
then  it's  the  Army;  then  he's  to  be  a  judge,  and  sit  on 
criminals ;  then  he  goes  out  to  his  sister  in  Portugal ;  and 
now  there's  nothing  but  a  tailor  open  to  him,  as  I  see,  if 
we're  to  get  our  money." 

"  Ah !  and  he  hasn't  got  too  much  spirit  to  work  to  pay 
his  father's  debts,"  added  Barnes.  "There's  a  business 
there  to  make  any  man's  fortune  —  properly  directed,  /say. 
But,  I  suppose,  like  father  like  son,  he'll  be  coming  the 
Marquis,  too.  He  went  to  a  gentleman's  school,  and  he's 
had  foreign  training.  I  don't  know  what  to  think  about  it. 
His  sisters  over  there  —  they  were  fine  women." 

"  Oh !  a  fine  family,  every  one  of  'em !  and  married  well !  " 
exclaimed  the  publican. 

"I  never  had  the  exact  rights  of  that  'Marquis  '  affair," 
said  Grossby;  and,  remembering  that  he  had  previously 
laughed  knowingly  when  it  was  alluded  to,  pursued:  "Of 
course  I  heard  of  it  at  the  time,  but  how  did  he  behave 
when  he  was  blown  upon?" 


6  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Barnes  undertook  to  explain;  but  Kilne,  who  relished 
the  narrative  quite  as  well,  and  was  readier,  said : 

"Look  here!  I'll  tell  you.  I  had  it  from  his  own  mouth 
one  night  when  he  wasn't  —  not  quite  himself.  He  was 
coming  down  King  William  Street,  where  he  stabled  his 
horse,  you  know,  and  I  met  him.  He'd  been  dining  out  — 
somewhere  out  over  Fallowfield,  I  think  it  was;  and  he 
sings  out  to  me,  'Ah!  Kilne,  my  good  fellow!'  and  I, 
wishing  to  be  equal  with  him,  says,  *A  fine  night,  my 
lord ! '  and  he  draws  himself  up  —  he  smelt  of  good  com- 
pany—  says  he,  *  Kilne!  I'm  not  a  lord,  as  you  know,  and 
you  have  no  excuse  for  mistaking  me  for  one,  sir! '  So  I 
pretended  I  had  mistaken  him,  and  then  he  tucked  his  arm 
under  mine,  and  said,  'You're  no  worse  than  your  betters, 
Kilne.  They  took  me  for  one  at  Squire  Uploft's  to-night, 
but  a  man  who  wishes  to  pass  off  for  more  than  he  is,  Kilne, 
and  impose  upon  people,'  he  says,  'he's  contemptible,  Kilne! 
contemptible ! '  So  that,  you  know,  set  me  thinking  about 
'Bath'  and  the  'Marquis,'  and  I  couldn't  help  smiling  to 
myself,  and  just  let  slip  a  question  whether  he  had  enlight- 
ened them  a  bit.  'Kilne,'  said  he,  'you're  an  honest  man, 
and  a  neighbour,  and  I'll  tell  you  what  happened.  The 
Squire,'  he  says,  'likes  my  company,  and  I  like  his  table. 
Now  the  Squire'd  never  do  a  dirty  action,  but  the  Squire's 
nephew,  Mr.  George  Uploft,  he  can't  forget  that  I  earn  my 
money,  and  once  or  twice  I  have  had  to  correct  him.'  And 
I'll  wager  Mel  did  it,  too!  Well,  he  goes  on:  'There  was 
Admiral  Sir  Jackson  Roseley  and  his  lady,  at  dinner.  Squire 
Foulke  of  Hursted,  Lady  Barrington,  Admiral  Combleman ' 
—  our  admiral,  that  was;  'Mr.  This  and  That,  I  forget  their 
names  —  and  other  ladies  and  gentlemen  whose  acquaintance 
I  was  not  honoured  with.'  You  know  his  way  of  talking. 
'And  there  was  a  goose  on  the  table,'  he  says;  and,  looking 
stern  at  me,  'Don't  laugh  yet!'  says  he,  like  thunder. 
Well,  he  goes  on:  'Mr.  George  caught  my  eye  across  the 
table,  and  said,  so  as  not  to  be  heard  by  his  uncle,  "  If  that 
bird  was  rampant,  you  would  see  your  own  arms,  Marquis."  ' 
and  Mel  replied,  quietly  for  him  to  hear,  'And  as  that  bird 
is  couchant,  Mr.  George,  you  had  better  look  to  your  sauce.' 
Gouchant  means  squatting,  you  know.  That's  heraldy! 
Well,  that  wasn't  bad  sparring  of  Mel's.     But,  bless  you! 


ABOVE  BUTTONS  7 

he  was  never  taken  aback,  and  the  gentlefolks  was  glad 
enough  to  get  him  to  sit  down  amongst  'em.  So,  says  Mr. 
George,  'I  know  you're  a  fire-eater.  Marquis,'  and  his  dan- 
der was  up,  for  he  began  marquising  Mel,  and  doing  the 
mock-polite  at  such  a  rate,  that,  by-and-by,  one  of  the  ladies 
who  didn't  know  Mel  called  him  *my  lord '  and  *his  lord- 
ship.' 'And,'  says  Mel,  'I  merely  bowed  to  her,  and  took 
no  notice.'  So  that  passed  off:  and  there  sits  Mel  telling 
his  anecdotes,  as  grand  as  a  king.  And,  by-and-by,  young 
Mr.  George,  who  hadn't  forgiven  Mel,  and  had  been  pulling 
at  the  bottle  pretty  well,  he  sings  out,  'It's  Michaelmas! 
the  death  of  the  goose!  and  I  should  like  to  drink  the 
Marquis's  health!'  and  he  drank  it  solemn.  But,  as  far 
as  I  can  make  out,  the  women  part  of  the  company  was  a 
little  in  the  dark.  So  Mel  waited  till  there  was  a  sort  of  a 
pause,  and  then  speaks  rather  loud  to  the  Admiral,  'By  the 
way.  Sir  Jackson,  may  I  ask  you,  has  the  title  of  Marquis 
anything  to  do  with  tailoring? '  Now  Mel  was  a  great 
favourite  with  the  Admiral,  and  with  his  lady,  too, —  they 
say  —  and  the  Admiral  played  into  his  hands,  you  see,  and, 
says  he,  'I'm  not  aware  that  it  has,  Mr.  Harrington.'  And 
he  begged  for  to  know  why  he  asked  the  question  —  called 
him,  'Mister,'  you  understand.  So  Mel  said,  and  I  can  see 
him  now  —  right  out  from  his  chest  he  spoke,  with  his  head 
up  — '  When  I  was  a  younger  man,  I  had  the  good  taste  to 
be  fond  of  good  society,  and  the  bad  taste  to  wish  to  appear 
different  from  what  I  was  in  it:'  —  that's  Mel  speaking; 
everybody  was  listening;  so  he  goes  on:  'I  was  in  the  habit 
of  going  to  Bath  in  the  season,  and  consorting  with  the 
gentlemen  I  met  there  on  terms  of  equality;  and  for  some 
reason  that  I  am  quite  guiltless  o/,'  says  Mel,  'the  hotel 
people  gave  out  that  I  was  a  Marquis  in  disguise ;  and,  upon 
my  honour,  ladies  and  gentlemen  —  I  was  young  then,  and 
a  fool  —  I  could  not  help  imagining  I  looked  the  thing.  At 
all  events,  I  took  upon  myself  to  act  the  part,  and  with 
some  success,  and  considerable  gratification;  for,  in  my 
opinion,'  says  Mel,  'no  real  Marquis  ever  enjoyed  his  title 
so  much  as  I  did.  One  day  I  was  in  my  shop  —  Ko.  193, 
Main  Street,  Lymport  —  and  a  gentleman  came  in  to  order 
his  outfit.  I  received  his  directions,  when  suddenly  he 
started  back,  stared  at  me,  and  exclaimed :  "  My  dear  Mar- 


8  EVAN  HAREINGTOrf 

quis !  I  trust  you  will  pardon  me  for  having  addressed  you 
with  so  much  familiarity."  I  recognized  in  him  one  of  my 
Bath  acquaintances.  That  circumstance,  ladies  and  gentle- 
men, has  been  a  lesson  to  me.  Since  that  time  I  have  never 
allowed  a  false  impression  with  regard  to  my  position  to 
exist.  I  desire,'  says  Mel,  smiling,  *to  have  my  exact 
measure  taken  everywhere;  and  if  the  Michaelmas  bird  is 
to  be  associated  with  me,  I  am  sure  I  have  no  objection ; 
all  I  can  say  is,  that  I  cannot  justify  it  by  letters  patent  of 
nobility.'  That's  how  Mel  put  it.  Do  you  think  they 
thought  worse  of  him?  I  warrant  you  he  came  out  of  it 
in  flying  colours.  Gentlefolks  like  straightforwardness  in 
their  inferiors  —  that's  what  they  do.  Ah !  "  said  Kilne, 
meditatively,  "  I  see  him  now,  walking  across  the  street  in 
the  moonlight,  after  he'd  told  me  that.  A  fine  figure  of  a 
man!  and  there  ain't  many  Marquises  to  match  him." 

To  this  Barnes  and  Grossby,  not  insensible  to  the  merits 
of  the  recital  they  had  just  given  ear  to,  agreed.  And 
with  a  common  voice  of  praise  in  the  mouths  of  his  credi- 
tors, the  dead  man's  requiem  was  sounded. 


CHAPTER  II 

THE   HERITAGE   OF   TELE  SON 

TowAED  evening,  a  carriage  drove  up  to  the  door  of  the 
muted  house,  and  the  card  of  Lady  Roseley,  bearing  a  hurried 
line  in  pencil,  was  handed  to  the  widow. 

It  was  when  you  looked  upon  her  that  you  began  to  com- 
prehend how  great  was  the  personal  splendour  of  the  husband 
who  could  eclipse  such  a  woman.  Mrs.  Harrington  was  a 
tall  and  a  stately  dame.  Dressed  in  the  high  waists  of  the 
matrons  of  that  period,  with  a  light  shawl  drawn  close  over 
her  shoulders  and  bosom,  she  carried  her  head  well ;  and  her 
pale  firm  features,  with  the  cast  of  immediate  affliction  on 
them,  had  much  dignity :  dignity  of  an  unrelenting  physi- 
cal order,  which  need  not  express  any  remarkable  pride  of 
spirit.     The  family  gossips  who,  on  both  sides,  were  vain  of 


THE  HEKITAGE   OP   THE   SON  9 

this  rare  couple,  and  would  always  descant  on  their  beauty, 
even  when  they  had  occasion  to  slander  their  characters, 
said,  to  distinguish  them,  that  Henrietta  Maria  had  a  Port, 
and  Melchisedec  a  Presence :  and  that  the  union  of  a  Port 
and  a  Presence,  and  such  a  Port  and  such  a  Presence,  was 
so  uncommon,  that  you  might  search  England  through  and 
you  would  not  find  another,  not  even  in  the  highest  ranks 
of  society.  There  lies  some  subtle  distinction  here;  due 
to  the  minute  perceptions  which  compel  the  gossips  of  a 
family  to  coin  phrases  that  shall  express  the  nicest  shades 
of  a  domestic  difference.  By  a  Port,  one  may  understand 
them  to  indicate  something  unsympathetically  impressive ; 
whereas  a  Presence  would  seem  to  be  a  thing  that  directs 
the  most  affable  appeal  to  our  poor  human  weaknesses. 
His  Majesty  King  George  IV.,  for  instance,  possessed  a 
Port:  Beau  Brummel  wielded  a  Presence.  Many,  it  is 
true,  take  a  Presence  to  mean  no  more  than  a  shirt-frill,  and 
interpret  a  Port  as  the  art  of  walking  erect.  But  this  is 
to  look  upon  language  too  narrowly. 

On  a  more  intimate  acquaintance  with  the  couple,  you 
acknowledge  the  aptness  of  the  fine  distinction.  By  birth 
Mrs.  Harrington  had  claims  to  rank  as  a  gentlewoman. 
That  is,  her  father  was  a  lawyer  of  Lymportf.  The  lawyer, 
however,  since  we  must  descend  the  genealogical  tree,  was 
known  to  have  married  his  cook,  who  was  the  lady's  mother. 
Now  Mr.  Melchisedec  was  mysterious  concerning  his  origin; 
and,  in  his  cups,  talked  largely  and  wisely  of  a  great  Welsh 
family,  issuing  from  a  line  of  princes ;  and  it  is  certain  that 
he  knew  enough  of  their  history  to  have  instructed  them  on 
particular  points  of  it.  He  never  could  think  that  his  wife 
had  done  him  any  honour  in  espousing  him ;  nor  was  she 
the  woman  to  tell  him  so.  She  had  married  him  for  love, 
rejecting  various  suitors.  Squire  Uploft  among  them,  in  his 
favour.  Subsequently  she  had  committed  the  profound  con- 
nubial error  of  transferring  her  affections,  or  her  thoughts, 
from  him  to  his  business,  which,  indeed,  was  much  in  want 
of  a  mate;  and  while  he  squandered  the  guineas,  she  pa- 
tiently picked  up  the  pence.  They  had  not  lived  unhappily. 
He  was  constantly  courteous  to  her.  But  to  see  the  Port  at 
that  sordid  work  considerably  ruffled  the  Presence  —  put,  as 
it  were,  the  peculiar  division  between  them;  and  to  behave 


10  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

toward  her  as  the  same  woman  who  had  attracted  his  youth- 
ful ardours  was  a  task  for  his  magnificent  mind,  and  may  have 
ranked  with  him  as  an  indemnity  for  his  general  conduct, 
if  his  reflections  ever  stretched  so  far.  The  townspeople  of 
Lymport  were  correct  in  saying  that  his  wife,  and  his  wife 
alone,  had,  as  they  termed  it,  kept  him  together.  Never- 
theless, now  that  he  was  dead,  and  could  no  longer  be  kept 
together,  they  entirely  forgot  their  respect  for  her,  in  the 
outburst  of  their  secret  admiration  for  the  popular  man. 
Such  is  the  constitution  of  the  inhabitants  of  this  dear 
Island  of  Britain,  so  falsely  accused  by  the  Great  Napoleon 
of  being  a  nation  of  shopkeepers.  Here  let  any  one  pro- 
claim himself  Above  Buttons,  and  act  on  the  assumption, 
his  fellows  with  one  accord  hoist  him  on  their  heads,  and 
bear  him  aloft,  sweating,  and  groaning,  and  cursing,  but 
proud  of  him!  And  if  he  can  contrive,  or  has  any  good 
wife  at  home  to  help  him,  to  die  without  going  to  the  dogs, 
they  are,  one  may  say,  unanimous  in  crying  out  the  same 
eulogistic  funeral  oration  as  that  commenced  by  Kilne,  the 
publican,  when  he  was  interrupted  by  Barnes,  the  butcher, 
"Now,  there's  a  man !  —  " 

Mrs.  Harrington  was  sitting  in  her  parlour  with  one  of  her 
married  nieces,  Mrs.  Fiske,  and  on  reading  Lady  Roseley's 
card  she  gave  word  for  her  to  be  shown  up  into  the  drawing- 
room.  It  was  customary  among  Mrs.  Harrington's  female 
relatives,  who  one  and  all  abused  and  adored  the  great  Mel, 
to  attribute  his  shortcomings  pointedly  to  the  ladies ;  which 
was  as  much  as  if  their  jealous  generous  hearts  had  said 
that  he  was  sinful,  but  that  it  was  not  his  fault.  Mrs. 
Fiske  caught  the  card  from  her  aunt,  read  the  superscrip- 
tion, and  exclaimed:  "The  idea!  At  least  she  might  have 
had  the  decency!  She  never  set  her  foot  in  the  house 
before  —  and  right  enough  too!  What  can  she  want  now? 
I  decidedly  would  refuse  to  see  her,  aunt ! " 

The  widow's  reply  was  simply,  "  Don't  be  a  fool,  Ann !  " 

Rising,  she  said:  "Here,  take  poor  Jacko,  and  comfort 
him  till  I  come  back." 

Jacko  was  a  middle-sized  South  American  monkey,  and 
had  been  a  pet  of  her  husband's.  He  was  supposed  to  be 
mourning  now  with  the  rest  of  the  family.      Mrs,  Fiske 


THE   HERITAGE  OF  THE  SON  11 

received  him  on  a  shrinking  lap,  and  had  found  time  to 
correct  one  of  his  indiscretions  before  she  could  sigh  and 
say,  in  the  rear  of  her  aunt's  retreating  figure,  "  I  certainly 
never  would  let  myself  down  so;"  but  Mrs.  Harrington 
took  her  own  counsel,  and  Jacko  was  of  her  persuasion,  for 
he  quickly  released  himself  from  Mrs.  Fiske's  dispassionate 
embrace,  and  was  slinging  his  body  up  the  balusters  after 
his  mistress. 

"Mrs.  Harrington,"  said  Lady  Eoseley,  very  sweetly 
swimming  to  meet  her  as  she  entered  the  room,  "I  have 
intruded  upon  you,  I  fear,  in  venturing  to  call  upon  you  at 
such  a  time?" 

The  widow  bowed  to  her,  and  begged  her  to  be  seated. 

Lady  Roseley  was  an  exquisitely  silken  dame,  in  whose 
face  a  winning  smile  was  cut,  and  she  was  still  sufficiently 
youthful  not  to  be  accused  of  wearing  a  flower  too  artificial. 

"  It  was  so  sudden !  so  sad ! "  she  continued.  "  We 
esteemed  him  so  much.  I  thought  you  might  be  in  need  of 
sympathy,  and  hoped  I  might —  Dear  Mrs.  Harrington! 
can  you  bear  to  speak  of  it  ?  " 

"I  can  tell  you  anything  you  wish  to  hear,  my  lady,"  the 
widow  replied. 

Lady  Roseley  had  expected  to  meet  a  woman  much  more 
like  what  she  conceived  a  tradesman's  wife  would  be :  and 
the  grave  reception  of  her  proffer  of  sympathy  slightly  con- 
fused her.     She  said : 

"I  should  not  have  come,  at  least  not  so  early,  but  Sir 
Jackson,  my  husband,  thought,  and  indeed  I  imagined  — 
You  have  a  son,  Mrs.  Harrington?    I  think  his  name  is  —  " 

"Evan,  my  lady." 

"Evan.  It  was  of  him  we  have  been  speaking.  I 
imagined  —  that  is,  we  thought.  Sir  Jackson  might  —  you 
will  be  writing  to  him,  and  will  let  him  know  we  will  use 
our  best  efforts  to  assist  him  in  obtaining  some  position 
worthy  of  his  —  superior  to  —  something  that  will  secure 
him  from  the  harassing  embarrassments  of  an  uncongenial 
employment." 

The  widow  listened  to  this  tender  allusion  to  the  shears 
without  a  smile  of  gratitude.  She  replied:  "I  hope  my 
son  will  return  in  time  to  bury  his  father,  and  he  will 
thank  you  himself,  my  lady." 


12  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"He  has  no  taste  for  —  a — for  anything  in  the  shape  of 
trade  has  he,  Mrs.  Harrington?" 

"I  am  afraid  not,  my  lady." 

"Any  position  —  a  situation  —  that  of  a  clerk  even  — 
would  be  so  much  better  for  him!" 

The  widow  remained  impassive. 

"And  many  young  gentlemen  I  know,  who  are  clerks, 
and  are  enabled  to  live  comfortably,  and  make  a  modest 
appearance  in  society;  and  your  son,  Mrs.  Harrington,  he 
would  find  it  surely  an  improvement  upon  —  many  would 
think  it  a  step  for  him." 

"  I  am  bound  to  thank  you  for  the  interest  you  take  in 
my  son,  my  lady." 

"Does  it  not  quite  suit  your  views,  Mrs.  Harrington?" 
Lady  Koseley  was  surprised  at  the  widow's  manner. 

"If  my  son  had  only  to  think  of  himself,   my  lady." 

"Oh!  but  of  course,"  —  the  lady  understood  her  now  — 
"of  course!  You  cannot  suppose,  Mrs.  Harrington,  but 
that  I  should  anticipate  he  would  have  you  to  live  with  him, 
and  behave  to  you  in  every  way  as  a  dutiful  son,  surely?" 

"  A  clerk's  income  is  not  very  large,  my  lady." 

"  No ;  but  enough,  as  I  have  said,  and  with  the  manage- 
ment you  would  bring,  Mrs.  Harrington,  to  produce  a  modest, 
respectable  maintenance.  My  respect  for  your  husband, 
Mrs.  Harrington,  makes  me  anxious  to  press  my  services 
upon  you."  Lady  Roseley  could  not  avoid  feeling  hurt  at 
the  widow's  want  of  common  gratitude. 

"  A  clerk's  income  would  not  be  more  than  100?.  a  year, 
my  lady." 

"  To  begin  with  —  no ;  certainly  not  more."  The  lady  was 
growing  brief. 

"  If  my  son  puts  by  the  half  of  that  yearly,  he  can  hardly 
support  himself  and  his  mother,  my  lady." 

"  Half  of  that  yearly,  Mrs.  Harrington  ?  " 

"He  would  have  to  do  so,  and  be  saddled  till  he  dies, 
my  lady." 

"  I  really  cannot  see  why." 

Lady  Roseley  had  a  notion  of  some  excessive  niggardly 
thrift  in  the  widow,  which  was  arousing  symptoms  of  disgust 

Mrs.  Harrington  quietly  said:  "There  are  his  father's 
debts  to  pay,  my  lady." 


THE  HEBITAGE  OF  THE  SON  18' 

"His  father's  debts!" 

"  Under  5000Z.,  but  above  4000Z.,  my  lady." 

"  Five  thousand  pounds !  Mrs.  Harrington !  "  The  lady's 
delicately  gloved  hand  gently  rose  and  fell.  "And  this 
poor  young  man  —  "  she  pursued. 

"  My  son  will  have  to  pay  it,  my  lady." 

For  a  moment  the  lady  had  not  a  word  to  instance.  Pres- 
ently she  remarked:  "But,  Mrs.  Harrington,  he  is  surely 
under  no  legal  obligation  ?  " 

"  He  is  only  under  the  obligation  not  to  cast  disrespect 
on  his  father's  memory,  my  lady ;  and  to  be  honest,  while 
he  can." 

"  But,  Mrs.  Harrington !  surely  !  what  can  the  poor  young 
man  do  ?  " 

"  He  will  pay  it,  my  lady." 

"  But  how,  Mrs.  Harrington  ?  " 

"  There  is  his  father's  business,  my  lady." 

His  father's  business  !  Then  must  the  young  man  become 
a  tradesman  in  order  to  show  respect  for  his  father  ?  Pre- 
posterous !  That  was  the  lady's  natural  inward  exclamation. 
She  said,  rather  shrewdly,  for  one  who  knew  nothing  of 
such  things :  "  But  a  business  which  produces  debts  so 
enormous,  Mrs.  Harrington ! " 

The  widow  replied :  "  My  son  will  have  to  conduct  it  in  a 
different  way.  It  would  be  a  very  good  business,  conducted 
properly,  my  lady." 

"  But  if  he  has  no  taste  for  it,  Mrs.  Harrington  ?  If  he 
is  altogether  superior  to  it  ?  " 

For  the  first  time  during  the  interview,  the  widow's  in- 
flexible countenance  was  mildly  moved,  though  not  to  any 
mild  expression. 

"My  son  will  have  not  to  consult  his  tastes,"  she  ob- 
served :  and  seeing  the  lady,  after  a  short  silence,  quit  her 
seat,  she  rose  likewise,  and  touched  the  fingers  of  the  hand 
held  forth  to  her,  bowing. 

"  You  will  pardon  the  interest  I  take  in  your  son,"  said 
Lady  Roseley.  "I  hope,  indeed,  that  his  relatives  and 
friends  will  procure  him  the  means  of  satisfying  the  de- 
mands made  upon  him." 

"He  would  still  have  to  pay  tJiem,  my  lady,"  was  the 
widow's  answer. 


14  EVAN   HAREINGTON 

"  Poor  young  man !  indeed  I  pity  him !  "  sighed  her  visi- 
tor. "  You  have  hitherto  used  no  efforts  to  persuade  him 
to  take  such  a  step,  Mrs.  Harrington  ?  " 

"I  have  written  to  Mr.  Goren,  who  was  my  husband's 
fellow-apprentice  in  London,  my  lady ;  and  he  is  willing 
to  instruct  him  in  cutting,  and  measuring,  and  keeping 
accounts." 

Certain  words  in  this  speech  were  obnoxious  to  the  fine 
ear  of  Lady  Eoseley,  and  she  relinquished  the  subject. 

"Your  husband,  Mrs.  Harrington  —  I  should  so  much 
have  wished !  —  he  did  not  pass  away  in — in  pain ! " 

"  He  died  very  calmly,  my  lady." 

"  It  is  so  terrible,  so  disfiguring,  sometimes.  One  dreads 
to  see !  —  one  can  hardly  distinguish !  I  have  known  cases 
where  death  was  dreadful !  But  a  peaceful  death  is  very 
beautiful !  There  is  nothing  shocking  to  the  mind.  It 
suggests  heaven !     It  seems  a  fulfilment  of  our  prayers ! " 

"  Would  your  ladyship  like  to  look  upon  him  ?  "  said  the 
widow. 

Lady  Roseley  betrayed  a  sudden  gleam  at  having  her 
desire  thus  intuitively  fathomed. 

"  For  one  moment,  Mrs.  Harrington !  We  esteemed  him 
so  much !     May  I  ?  " 

The  widow  responded  by  opening  the  door,  and  leading 
her  into  the  chamber  where  the  dead  man  lay. 

At  that  period,  when  threats  of  invasion  had  formerly 
stirred  up  the  military  fire  of  us  Islanders,  the  great  Mel,  as  if 
to  show  the  great  Napoleon  what  character  of  being  a  British 
shopkeeper  really  was,  had,  by  remarkable  favour,  obtained 
a  lieutenancy  of  militia  dragoons :  in  the  uniform  of  which 
he  had  revelled,  and  perhaps,  for  the  only  time  in  his  life,  felt 
that  circumstances  had  suited  him  with  a  perfect  fit.  How- 
ever that  may  be,  his  solemn  final  commands  to  his  wife, 
Henrietta  Maria,  on  whom  he  could  count  for  absolute 
obedience  in  such  matters,  had  been,  that  as  soon  as  the 
breath  had  left  his  body,  he  should  be  taken  from  his  bed, 
washed,  perfumed,  powdered,  and  in  that  uniform  dressed 
and  laid  out ;  with  directions  that  he  should  be  so  buried  at 
the  expiration  of  three  days,  that  havoc  in  his  features  might 
be  hidden  from  men.   In  this  array  Lady  Eoseley  beheld  him. 


THE  HERITAGE   OF   THE  SON  16 

The  curtains  of  the  bed  were  drawn  aside.  The  beams  of 
evening  fell  soft  through  the  blinds  of  the  room,  and  cast  a 
subdued  light  on  the  figure  of  the  vanquished  warrior.  The 
Presence,  dumb  now  for  evermore,  was  sadly  illumined  for 
its  last  exhibition.  But  one  who  looked  closely  might  have 
seen  that  Time  had  somewhat  spoiled  that  perfect  fit  which 
had  aforetime  been  his  pride ;  and  now  that  the  lofty  spirit 
had  departed,  there  had  been  extreme  difficulty  in  persuading 
the  sullen  excess  of  clay  to  conform  to  the  dimensions  of  those 
garments.  The  upper  part  of  the  chest  alone  would  bear  its 
buttons,  and  across  one  portion  of  the  lower  limbs  an  ancient 
seam  had  started ;  recalling  an  incident  to  them  who  had 
known  him  in  his  brief  hour  of  glory.  For  one  night,  as  he 
was  riding  home  from  Fallowfield,  and  just  entering  the  gates 
of  the  town,  a  mounted  trooper  spurred  furiously  past,  and 
slashing  out  at  him,  gashed  his  thigh.  Mrs.  Melchisedec 
found  him  lying  at  his  door  in  a  not  unwonted  way ;  carried 
him  up-stairs  in  her  arms,  as  she  had  done  many  a  time  be- 
fore, and  did  not  perceive  his  condition  till  she  saw  the  blood 
on  her  gown.  The  cowardly  assailant  was  never  discovered ; 
but  Mel  was  both  gallant  and  had,  in  his  military  career,  the 
reputation  of  being  a  martinet.  Hence,  divers  causes  were 
suspected.  The  wound  failed  not  to  mend,  the  trousers  were 
repaired:  Peace  about  the  same  time  was  made,  and  the 
affair  passed  over. 

Looking  on  the  fine  head  and  face.  Lady  Roseley  saw 
nothing  of  this.  She  had  not  looked  long  before  she  found 
covert  employment  for  her  handkerchief.  The  widow  stand- 
ing beside  her  did  not  weep,  or  reply  to  her  whispered  excuses 
at  emotion ;  gazing  down  on  his  mortal  length  with  a  sort  of 
benignant  friendliness ;  aloof,  as  one  whose  duties  to  that 
form  of  flesh  were  well-nigh  done.  At  the  feet  of  his  master, 
Jacko,  the  monkey,  had  jumped  up,  and  was  there  squatted, 
with  his  legs  crossed,  very  like  a  tailor !  The  imitative  wretch 
had  got  a  towel,  and  as  often  as  Lady  Roseley's  handkerchief 
travelled  to  her  eyes,  Jacko's  peery  face  was  hidden,  and  you 
saw  his  lithe  skinny  body  doing  grief 's  convulsions :  till, 
tired  of  this  amusement,  he  obtained  possession  of  the  war- 
rior's helmet,  from  a  small  round  table  on  one  side  of  the 
bed ;  a  casque  of  the  barbarous  military-Georgian  form,  with 
a  huge  knob  of  horse-hair  projecting  over  the  peakj  and 


16  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

under  this,  trying  to  adapt  it  to  his  rogue's  head,  the  tricksy 
image  of  Death  extinguished  himself. 

All  -was  very  silent  in  the  room.  Then  the  widow  quietly 
disengaged  Jacko,  and  taking  him  up,  went  to  the  door,  and 
deposited  him  outside.  During  her  momentary  absence, 
Lady  Koseley  had  time  to  touch  the  dead  man's  forehead 
with  her  lips,  unseen. 


CHAPTER  III 

THE   DAUGHTERS    OF   THE   SHEAKS 

Thbee  daughters  and  a  son  were  left  to  the  world  by 
Mr.  Melchisedec.  Love,  well  endowed,  had  already  claimed 
to  provide  for  the  daughters :  first  in  the  shape  of  a  lean 
Marine  subaltern,  whose  days  of  obscuration  had  now  passed, 
and  who  had  come  to  be  a  major  of  that  corps :  secondly, 
presenting  his  addresses  as  a  brewer  of  distinction :  thirdly, 
and  for  a  climax,  as  a  Portuguese  Count :  no  other  than  the 
Senor  Silva  Diaz,  Conde  de  Saldar :  and  this  match  did  seem 
a  far  more  resplendent  one  than  that  of  the  two  elder  sisters 
with  Major  Strike  and  Mr.  Andrew  Cogglesby.  But  the  rays 
of  neither  fell  visibly  on  Lymport.  These  escaped  Eury dices 
never  reappeared,  after  being  once  fairly  caught  away  from 
the  gloomy  realms  of  Dis,  otherwise  Trade.  All  three  per- 
sons of  singular  beauty,  a  certain  refinement,  some  Port,  and 
some  Presence,  hereditarily  combined,  they  feared  the  clutch 
of  that  fell  king,  and  performed  the  widest  possible  circles 
around  him.  Not  one  of  them  ever  approached  the  house 
of  her  parents.  They  were  dutiful  and  loving  children,  and 
wrote  frequently ;  but  of  course  they  had  to  consider  their 
new  position,  and  their  husbands,  and  their  husbands'  fami- 
lies, and  the  world,  and  what  it  would  say,  if  to  it  the 
dreaded  rumour  should  penetrate !  Lymport  gossips,  as  nu- 
merous as  in  other  parts,  declared  that  the  foreign  nobleman 
would  rave  in  an  extraordinary  manner,  and  do  things  after 
the  outlandish  fashion  of  his  country :  for  from  him,  there 
was  no  doubt,  the  shop  had  been  most  successfully  veiled,  and 
he  knew  not  of  Pluto's  close  relationship  to  his  lovely  spouse. 


THE  DAUGHTERS  OF  THE  SHEARS  17 

The  marriages  had  happened  in  this  way.  Balls  are  given 
in  country  towns,  where  the  graces  of  tradesmen's  daughters 
may  be  witnessed  and  admired  at  leisure  by  other  than 
tradesmen:  by  occasional  country  gentlemen  of  the  neigh- 
bourhood, with  light  minds:  and  also  by  small  officers; 
subalterns  wishing  to  do  tender  execution  upon  man's  fair 
enemy,  and  to  find  a  distraction  for  their  legs.  The  classes 
of  our  social  fabric  have,  here  and  there,  slight  connecting 
links,  and  provincial  public  balls  are  one  of  these.  They  are 
dangerous,  for  Cupid  is  no  respecter  of  class-prejudice ;  and 
if  you  are  the  son  of  a  retired  tea-merchant,  or  of  a  village 
doctor,  or  of  a  half-pay  captain,  or  of  anything  superior,  and 
visit  one  of  them,  you  are  as  likely  to  receive  his  shot  as  any 
shopboy.  Even  masquerading  lords  .at  such  places,  have 
been  known  to  be  slain  outright;  and  although  Society 
allows  to  its  highest  and  dearest  to  save  the  honour  of  their 
families,  and  heal  their  anguish,  by  indecorous  compromise, 
you,  if  you  are  a  trifle  below  that  mark,  must  not  expect  it. 
You  must  absolutely  give  yoiirself  for  what  you  hope  to  get. 
Dreadful  as  it  sounds  to  philosophic  ears,  you  must  marry. 
This,  having  danced  with  Caroline  Harrington,  the  gallant 
Lieutenant  Strike  determined  to  do.  Nor,  when  he  became 
aware  of  her  father's  occupation,  did  he  shrink  from  his 
resolve.  After  a  month's  hard  courtship,  he  married  her 
straight  out  of  her  father's  house.  That  he  may  have  all 
the  credit  due  to  him,  it  must  be  admitted  that  he  did  not 
once  compare,  or  possibly  permit  himself  to  reflect  on,  the 
dissimilarity  in  their  respective  ranks,  and  the  step  he  had 
taken  downward,  till  they  were  man  and  wife :  and  then  not 
in  any  great  degree,  before  Fortune  had  given  him  his  major- 
ity ;  an  advance  the  good  soldier  frankly  told  his  wife  he  did 
not  owe  to  her.  If  we  may  be  permitted  to  suppose  the 
colonel  of  a  regiment  on  friendly  terms  with  one  of  his 
corporals,  we  have  an  estimate  of  the  domestic  life  of  Major 
and  Mrs.  Strike.  Among  the  garrison  males,  his  comrades, 
he  passed  for  a  disgustingly  jealous  brute.  The  ladies,  in 
their  pretty  language,  signalized  him  as  a  "  finick," 

Now,  having  achieved  so  capital  a  marriage,  Caroline, 
worthy  creature,  was  anxious  that  her  sisters  should  not  be 
less  happy,  and  would  have  them  to  visit  her,  in  spite  of  her 
husband's  protests. 


18  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

"  There  can  be  no  danger,"  she  said,  for  she  was  in  fresh 
quarters,  far  from  the  nest  of  contagion.  The  lieutenant 
himself  ungrudgingly  declared  that,  looking  on  the  ladies,  no 
one  for  an  instant  could  suspect ;  and  he  saw  many  young 
fellows  ready  to  be  as  great  fools  as  he  had  been :  another 
voluntary  confession  he  made  to  his  wife ;  for  the  candour 
of  which  she  thanked  him,  and  pointed  out  that  it  seemed 
to  run  in  the  family ;  inasmuch  as  Mr.  Andrew  Cogglesby, 
his  rich  relative,  had  seen  and  had  proposed  for  Harriet. 
The  lieutenant  flatly  said  he  would  never  allow  it.  In  fact 
he  had  hitherto  concealed  the  non-presentable  portion  of  his 
folly  very  satisfactorily  from  all  save  the  mess-room,  and 
Mr.  Andrew's  passion  was  a  severe  dilemma  to  him.  It  need 
scarcely  be  told  that  his  wife,  fortified  by  the  fervid  brewer, 
defeated  him  utterly.  What  was  more,  she  induced  him  to 
be  an  accomplice  in  deception.  For  though  the  lieutenant 
protested  that  he  washed  his  hands  of  it,  and  that  it  was  a 
fraud  and  a  snare,  he  certainly  did  not  avow  the  condition 
of  his  wife's  parents  to  Mr.  Andrew,  but  alluded  to  them  in 
passing  as  "  the  country  people."  He  supposed  "  the  country 
people  "  must  be  asked,  he  said.  The  brewer  offered  to  go 
down  to  them.  But  the  lieutenant  drew  an  unpleasant  pict- 
ure of  the  country  people,  and  his  wife  became  so  grave  at 
the  proposal,  that  Mr.  Andrew  said  he  wanted  to  marry 
the  lady  and  not  the  "  country  people,"  and  if  she  would 
have  him,  there  he  was.  There  he  was,  behaving  with  a 
particular  and  sagacious  kindness  to  the  raw  lieutenant 
since  Harriet's  arrival.  If  the  lieutenant  sent  her  away, 
Mr.  Andrew  would  infallibly  pursue  her,  and  light  on  a 
discovery.  Twice  cursed  by  Love,  twice  the  victim  of 
tailordom,  our  excellent  Marine  gave  away  Harriet  Harring- 
ton in  marriage  to  Mr.  Andrew  Cogglesby. 

Thus  Joy  clapped  hands  a  second  time,  and  Horror  deep- 
ened its  shadows. 

From  higher  ground  it  was  natural  that  the  remaining 
sister  should  take  a  bolder  flight.  Of  the  loves  of  the  fair 
Louisa  Harrington  and  the  foreign  Count,  and  how  she  first 
encountered  him  in  the  brewer's  saloons,  and  how  she,  being 
a  humorous  person,  laughed  at  his  "  loaf  "  for  her,  and  wore 
the  colours  that  pleased  him,  and  kindled  and  soothed  his 
jealousy,  little  is  known  beyond  the  fact  that  she  espoused 


THE   DAUGHTEKS   OF   THE   SHEARS  19 

the  Count,  under  the  auspices  of  the  affluent  brewer,  and 
engaged  that  her  children  should  be  brought  up  in  the  faith 
of  the  Catholic  Church :  which  Lymport  gossips  called,  pay- 
ing the  Devil  for  her  pride. 

The  three  sisters,  gloriously  rescued  by  their  own  charms, 
had  now  to  think  of  their  one  young  brother.  How  to  make 
him  a  gentleman !  That  was  their  problem.  Preserve  him 
from  tailordom  —  from  all  contact  with  trade  —  they  must ; 
otherwise  they  would  be  perpetually  linked  to  the  horrid 
thing  they  hoped  to  outlive  and  bury.  A  cousin  of  Mr. 
Melchisedec's  had  risen  to  be  an  Admiral  and  a  knight  for 
valiant  action  in  the  old  war,  when  men  could  rise.  Him 
they  besought  to  take  charge  of  the  youth,  and  make  a  dis- 
tinguished seaman  of  him.  He  courteously  declined.  They 
then  attacked  the  married  Marine  —  Navy  or  Army  being 
quite  indifferent  to  them  as  long  as  they  could  win  for  their 
brother  the  badge  of  one  Service,  "  When  he  is  a  gentleman 
at  once ! "  they  said,  like  those  who  see  the  end  of  their 
labours.  Strike  basely  pretended  to  second  them.  It  would 
have  been  delightful  to  him,  of  course,  to  have  the  tailor's 
son  messing  at  the  same  table,  and  claiming  him  when  he 
pleased  with  a  familiar  "Ah,  brother ! "  and  prating  of  their 
relationship  everywhere.  Strike  had  been  a  fool:  in  re- 
venge for  it  he  laid  out  for  himself  a  masterly  career  of 
consequent  wisdom.  The  brewer  —  uxorious  Andrew  Cog- 
glesby  —  might  and  would  have  bought  the  commission. 
Strike  laughed  at  the  idea  of  giving  money  for  what  could 
be  got  for  nothing.     He  told  them  to  wait. 

In  the  meantime  Evan,  a  lad  of  seventeen,  spent  the  hours 
not  devoted  to  his  positive  profession  —  that  of  gentleman  — 
in  the  offices  of  the  brewery,  toying  with  big  books  and 
balances,  which  he  despised  with  the  combined  zeal  of  the 
sucking  soldier  and  emancipated  tailor. 

Two  years  passed  in  attendance  on  the  astute  brother-in- 
law,  to  whom  Fortune  now  beckoned  to  come  to  her  and 
gather  his  laurels  from  the  pig-tails.  About  the  same  time 
the  Countess  sailed  over  from  Lisbon  on  a  visit  to  her  sister 
Harriet  (in  reality,  it  was  whispered  in  the  Cogglesby 
saloons,  on  a  diplomatic  mission  from  the  Court  of  Lisbon ; 
but  that  could  not  be  made  ostensible).  The  Countess  nar- 
rowly sxamined  Evan,  whose  steady  advance  in  his  profes- 
sion both  hsr  sipters  praised. 


20  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"Yes,"  said  the  Countess,  in  a  languid  alien  accent. 
"He  has  something  of  his  father's  carriage  —  something. 
Something  of  his  delivery  —  his  readiness." 

It  was  a  remarkable  thing  that  these  ladies  thought  no 
man  on  earth  like  their  father,  and  always  cited  him  as  the 
example  of  a  perfect  gentleman,  and  yet  they  buried  him 
with  one  mind,  and  each  mounted  guard  over  his  sepulchre, 
to  secure  his  ghost  from  an  airing. 

"He  can  walk,  my  dears,  certainly,  and  talk  —  a  little. 
Tgte-a-tete,  I  do  not  say.  I  should  think  there  he  would  be 
—  a  stick  !  All  you  English  are.  But  what  sort  of  a  bow 
has  he  got,  I  ask  you  ?  How  does  he  enter  a  room  ?  And, 
then  his  smile !  his  laugh !  He  laughs  like  a  horse  —  abso- 
lutely !  There's  no  music  in  his  smile.  Oh !  you  should 
see  a  Portuguese  nobleman  smile.  O  mio  Deus!  honeyed, 
my  dears!  But  Evan  has  it  not.  None  of  you  English 
have.     You  go  so." 

The  Countess  pressed  a  thumb  and  finger  to  the  sides  of. 
her  mouth,  and  set  her  sisters  laughing. 

"I  assure  you,  no  better!  not  a  bit!  I  faint  in  your 
society.  I  ask  myself  —  Where  am  I  ?  Among  what  boors 
have  I  fallen  ?  But  Evan  is  no  worse  than  the  rest  of  you ; 
I  acknowledge  that.  If  he  knew  how  to  dress  his  shoulders 
properly,  and  to  direct  his  eyes  —  Oh !  the  eyes !  you  should 
see  how  a  Portuguese  nobleman  can  use  his  eyes !  Soul  1 
my  dears,  soul !  Can  any  of  you  look  the  unutterable  with- 
out being  absurd !     You  look  so." 

And  the  Countess  hung  her  jaw  under  heavily  vacuous 
orbits,  something  as  a  sheep  might  yawn. 

"  But  I  acknowledge  that  Evan  is  no  worse  than  the  rest 
of  you,"  she  repeated.  "If  he  understood  at  all  the  man- 
agement of  his  eyes  and  mouth !  But  that's  what  he  cannot 
possibly  learn  in  England  —  not  possibly !  As  for  your  poor 
husband,  Harriet !  one  really  has  to  remember  his  excellent 
qualities  to  forgive  him,  poor  man !  And  that  stiff  bandbox 
of  a  man  of  yours,  Caroline!"  addressing  the  wife  of  the 
Marine,  "  he  looks  as  if  he  were  all  angles  and  sections,  and 
were  taken  to  pieces  every  night  and  put  together  in  the 
morning.  He  may  be  a  good  soldier  —  good  anything  you 
will  —  but,  Diacho !  to  be  married  to  that !  He  is  not  civil- 
ized.    None  of  you  English  are.     You  have  no  place  in  the 


THE  DAtTGHTERS  OP  THE  SHEARS  21 

drawing-room.  You  are  like  so  many  intrusive  oxen  —  ab- 
solutely !  One  of  your  men  trod  on  my  toe  the  other  night, 
and  what  do  you  think  the  creature  did  ?  Jerks  back,  then 
the  half  of  him  forward  —  I  thought  he  was  going  to  break 
in  two  —  then  grins,  and  grunts,  *  Oh !  'm  sure,  beg  par- 
don, 'm  sure ! '     I  don't  know  whether  he  didn't  say,  marm  ! " 

The  Countess  lifted  her  hands,  and  fell  away  in  laughing 
horror.  When  her  humour,  or  her  feelings  generally,  were 
a  little  excited,  she  spoke  her  vernacular  as  her  sisters 
did,  but  immediately  subsided  into  the  deliberate  delicately 
syllabled  drawl. 

"  Now  that  happened  to  me  once  at  one  of  our  great  Balls," 
she  pursued.  "I  had  on  one  side  of  me  the  Duchesse 
Eugenia  de  Formosa  de  Fontandigua ;  on  the  other  sat  the 
Countess  de  Pel,  a  widow.  And  we  were  talking  of  the  ices 
that  evening.  Eugenia,  you  must  know,  my  dears,  was  in 
love  with  the  Count  Belmarana.  I  was  her  sole  confidante. 
'  The  Countess  de  Pel  —  a  horrible  creature !  Oh !  she  was 
the  Duchess's  determined  enemy  —  would  have  stabbed  her 
for  Belmarana,  one  of  the  most  beautiful  men !  Adored  by 
every  woman !  So  we  talked  ices,  Eugenia  and  myself,  quite 
comfortably,  and  that  horrible  De  Pel  had  no  idea  in  life ! 
Eugenia  had  just  said, '  This  ice  sickens  me !  I  do  not  taste 
the  flavour  of  the  vanille.'  I  answered,  '  It  is  here !  It 
must  —  it  cannot  but  be  here !  You  love  the  flavour  of  the 
vanille  ? '  With  her  exquisite  smile,  I  see  her  now  saying, 
'Too  well !  it  is  necessary  to  me !  I  live  on  it ! '  — when  up 
he  came.  In  his  eagerness,  his  foot  just  effleured  my  robe. 
Oh !  I  never  shall  forget !  In  an  instant  he  was  down  on 
one  knee:  it  was  so  momentary  that  none  saw  it  but  we 
three,  and  done  with  ineffable  grace,  'Pardon!'  he  said,  in 
his  sweet  Portuguese;  'Pardon!'  looking  up  —  the  hand- 
somest man  I  ever  beheld ;  and  when  I  think  of  that  odious 
wretch  the  other  night,  with  his  '  Oh  !  'm  sure,  beg  pardon, 
'm  sure !  —  'pon  my  honour  ! '  I  could  have  kicked  him  —  I 
could,  indeed ! " 

Here  the  Countess  laughed  out,  but  relapsed  into : 

"  Alas !  that  Belmarana  should  have  betrayed  that  beau- 
tiful trusting  creature  to  De  Pel.  Such  scandal! — a  duel! 
—  the  Duke  was  wounded.  For  a  whole  year  Eugenia  did 
not  dare  to  appear  at  Court,  but  had  to  remain  immured 


22  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

in  her  country-house,  where  she  heard  that  Belmaraiia  had 
married  De  Pel !  It  was  for  her  money,  of  course.  Rich 
as  Croesus,  and  as  wicked  as  the  black  man  below !  as  dear 
papa  used  to  say.  By  the  way,  weren't  we  talking  of  Evan  ? 
Ah,  —  yes!" 

And  so  forth.  The  Countess  was  immensely  admired,  and 
though  her  sisters  said  that  she  was  "  f oreignized "  over- 
much, they  clung  to  her  desperately.  She  seemed  so  entirely 
to  have  eclipsed  tailordom,  or  "  Demogorgon,"  as  the  Countess 
was  pleased  to  call  it.  Who  could  suppose  this  grand- 
mannered  lady,  with  her  coroneted  anecdotes  and  delicious 
breeding,  the  daughter  of  that  thing  ?  It  was  not  possible 
to  suppose  it.     It  seemed  to  defy  the  fact  itself. 

They  congratulated  her  on  her  complete  escape  from 
Demogorgon.  The  Countess  smiled  on  them  with  a  lovely 
sorrow. 

"  Safe  from  the  whisper,  my  dears ;  the  ceaseless  dread  ? 
If  you  knew  what  I  have  to  endure !  I  sometimes  envy  you. 
'Pon  my  honour,  I  sometimes  wish  I  had  married  a  fish' 
monger !  Silva,  indeed,  is  a  most  excellent  husband. 
Polished !  such  polish  as  you  know  not  of  in  England.  He 
has  a  way  —  a  wriggle  with  his  shoulders  in  company  —  1 
cannot  describe  it  to  you ;  so  slight !  so  elegant !  and  he  is 
all  that  a  woman  could  desire.  But  who  could  be  safe  in 
any  part  of  the  earth,  my  dears,  while  papa  will  go  about 
so,  and  behave  so  extraordinarily  ?  I  was  at  dinner  at  your 
English  embassy  a  month  ago,  and  there  was  Admiral  Com- 
bleman,  then  on  the  station  off  Lisbon,  Sir  Jackson  Roseley's 
friend,  who  was  the  Admiral  at  Lymport  formerly.  I  knew 
him  at  once,  and  thought,  oh !  what  shall  I  do !  My  heart 
was  like  a  lump  of  lead.  I  would  have  given  worlds  that 
we  might  one  of  us  have  smothered  the  other !  I  had  to  sit 
beside  him  —  it  always  happens  !  Thank  heaven !  he  did 
not  identify  me.  And  then  he  told  an  anecdote  of  Papa. 
It  was  the  dreadful  old  *  Bath '  story.  I  thought  I  should 
have  died.  I  could  not  but  fancy  the  Admiral  suspected. 
Was  it  not  natural  ?  And  what  do  you  think  I  had  the 
audacity  to  do  ?  I  asked  him  coolly,  whether  the  Mr.  Har- 
rington he  mentioned  was  not  the  son  of  Sir  Abraham 
Harrington,  of  Torquay,  —  the  gentleman  who  lost  his  yacht 
in  the  Lisbon  waters  last  year?     I  brought  it  on  myself. 


THE  DAUGHTEKS   OF   THE  SHEARS  23 

*  Gentleman,  ma'am, — Ma'am  ! '  says  the  horrid  old  creature, 

laughing,  — '  gentleman  !  he's  a '    I  cannot  speak  it :  I 

choke !  And  then  he  began  praising  Papa.  Diacho !  what 
I  suffered.  But,  you  know,  I  can  keep  my  countenance,  if  I 
perish.     I  am  a  Harrington  as  much  as  any  of  us ! " 

And  the  Countess  looked  superb  in  the  pride  with  which 
she  said  she  was  what  she  would  have  given  her  hand  not 
to  be.  But  few  feelings  are  single  on  this  globe,  and  junc- 
tion of  sentiments  need  not  imply  unity  in  our  yeasty 
compositions. 

"  After  it  was  over  —  my  supplice,"  continued  the  Count- 
ess, "  I  was  questioned  by  all  the  ladies  —  I  mean  our  ladies 
—  not  your  English.  They  wanted  to  know  how  I  could  be 
so  civil  to  that  intolerable  man.  I  gained  a  deal  of  credit, 
my  dears.  I  laid  it  all  on — Diplomacy."  The  Countess 
laughed  bitterly.  "  Diplomaxjy  bears  the  burden  of  it  all. 
I  pretended  that  Combleman  could  be  useful  to  Silva !  Oh ! 
what  hypocrites  we  all  are,  mio  Deus ! " 

The  ladies  listening  could  not  gainsay  this  favourite  claim 
of  universal  brotherhood  among  the  select  who  wear  masks 
instead  of  faces. 

With  regard  to  Evan,  the  Countess  had  far  outstripped  her 
sisters  in  her  views.  A  gentleman  she  had  discovered  must 
have  one  of  two  things  —  a  title  or  money.  He  might  have 
all  the  breeding  in  the  world ;  he  might  be  as  good  as  an 
angel ;  but  without  a  title  or  money  he  was  under  eclipse 
almost  total.  On  a  gentleman  the  sun  must  shine.  Now, 
Evan  had  no  title,  no  money.  The  clouds  were  thick  above 
the  youth.  To  gain  a  title  he  would  have  to  scale  aged 
mountains.  There  was  one  break  in  his  firmament  through 
which  the  radiant  luminary  might  be  assisted  to  cast  its 
beams  on  him  still  young.  That  divine  portal  was  matri- 
mony. If  he  could  but  make  a  rich  marriage  he  would 
blaze  transfigured ;  all  would  be  well !  And  why  should  not 
Evan  marry  an  heiress,  as  well  as  another  ? 

"  I  know  a  young  creature  who  would  exactly  suit  him," 
said  the  Countess.  "  She  is  related  to  the  embassy,  and  is 
in  Lisbon  now.  A  charming  child  —  just  sixteen!  Dios  ! 
how  the  men  rave  about  her !  and  she  isn't  a  beauty,  — 
there's  the  wonder  5    and  she  is  a  little  too  gauche  —  too 


24  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

English  in  her  habits  and  ways  of  thinking;  likes  to  be 
admired,  of  course,  but  doesn't  know  yet  how  to  set  about 
getting  it.     She  rather  scandalizes  our  ladies,  but  when  you 

know  her ! She  will  have,  they  say,  a  hundred  thousand 

pounds  in  her  own  right !  Rose  Jocelyn,  the  daughter  of 
Sir  Franks,  and  that  eccentric  Lady  Jocelyn.  She  is  with 
her  uncle,  Melville,  the  celebrated  diplomate  —  though,  to 
tell  you  the  truth,  we  turn  him  round  our  fingers,  and  spin 
him  as  the  boys  used  to  do  the  cockchafers.  I  cannot  forget 
our  old  Fallowfield  school-life,  you  see,  my  dears.  Well, 
Rose  Jocelyn  would  just  suit  Evan.  She  is  just  of  an  age 
to  receive  an  impression.  And  /  would  take  care  she  did. 
Instance  me  a  case  where  I  have  failed  ? 

"  Or  there  is  the  Portuguese  widow,  the  Rostral.  She's 
thirty,  certainly;  but  she  possesses  millions!  Estates  all 
over  the  kingdom,  and  the  sweetest  creature.  But,  no.  Evan 
woiild  be  out  of  the  way  there,  certainly.  But — our  women 
are  very  nice :  they  have  the  dearest,  sweetest  ways:  but  I 
would  rather  Evan  did  not  marry  one  of  them.  And  then 
there's  the  religion ! " 

This  was  a  sore  of  the  Countess's  own,  and  she  dropped  a 
tear  in  coming  across  it. 

"  No,  my  dears,  it  shall  be  Rose  Jocelyn ! "  she  concluded : 
"I  will  take  Evan  over  with  me,  and  see  that  he  has  oppor- 
tunities. It  shall  be  Rose,  and  then  I  can  call  her  mine; 
for  in  verity  I  love  the  child." 

It  is  not  my  part  to  dispute  the  Countess's  love  for  Miss 
Jocelyn ;  and  I  have  only  to  add  that  Evan,  unaware  of  the 
soft  training  he  was  to  undergo,  and  the  brilliant  chance  in 
store  for  him,  offered  no  impediment  to  the  proposition  that 
he  should  journey  to  Portugal  with  his  sister  (whose  subtlest 
flattery  was  to  tell  him  that  she  should  not  be  ashamed  to 
own  him  there) ;  and  ultimately,  furnished  with  cash  for 
the  trip  by  the  remonstrating  brewer,  went. 

So  these  Parcae,  daughters  of  the  shears,  arranged  and 
settled  the  young  man's  fate.  His  task  was  to  learn  the 
management  of  his  mouth,  how  to  dress  his  shoulders  prop- 
erly, and  to  direct  his  eyes  —  rare  qualities  in  man  or 
woman,  I  assure  you ;  the  management  of  the  mouth  being 
especially  admirable,  and  correspondingly  difficult.  These 
achieved,  he  was  to  place  his  battery  in  position,  and  win 
the  heart  and  hand  of  an  heiress. 


ON  BOARD  THE  JOCASTA  26 

Our  comedy  opens  with  his  return  from  Portugal,  in  com- 
pany with  Miss  Rose,  the  heiress ;  the  Honourable  Melville 
Jocelyn,  the  diplomate;  and  the  Count  and  Countess  de 
Saldar,  refugees  out  of  that  explosive  little  kingdom. 


CHAPTER  IV 

ON   BOARD   THE   JOCASTA 


From  the  Tagus  to  the  Thames  the  Government  sloop-of- 
war^  Jocasta,  had  made  a  prosperous  voyage,  bearing  that 
precious  freight,  a  removed  diplomatist  and  his  family ;  for 
whose  uses  let  a  sufficient  vindication  be  found  in  the  exer- 
cise he  affords  our  crews  in  the  science  of  seamanship. 
She  entered  our  noble  river  somewhat  early  on  a  fine  July 
morning.  Early  as  it  was,  two  young  people,  who  had 
nothing  to  do  with  the  trimming  or  guiding  of  the  vessel, 
stood  on  deck,  and  watched  the  double-shore,  beginning  to 
embrace  them  more  and  more  closely  as  they  sailed  onward. 
One,  a  young  lady,  very  young  in  manner,  wore  a  black  felt 
hat  with  a  floating  scarlet  feather,  and  was  clad  about  the 
shoulders  in  a  mantle  of  foreign  style  and  pattern.  The  other 
you  might  have  taken  for  a  wandering  Don,  were  such  an 
object  ever  known ;  so  simply  he  assumed  the  dusky  som- 
brero and  dangling  cloak,  of  which  one  fold  was  flung  across 
his  breast  and  drooped  behind  him.  The  line  of  an  ado- 
lescent dark  moustache  ran  along  his  lip,  and  only  at  inter- 
vals could  you  see  that  his  eyes  were  blue  and  of  the  land 
he  was  nearing.  For  the  youth  was  meditative,  and  held 
his  head  much  down.  The  young  lady,  on  the  contrary, 
permitted  an  open  inspection  of  her  countenance,  and 
seemed,  for  the  moment  at  least,  to  be  neither  caring  nor 
thinking  of  what  kind  of  judgement  would  be  passed  on 
her.  Her  pretty  nose  was  up,  sniffing  the  still  salt  breeze 
with  vivacious  delight. 

"  Oh !  "  she  cried,  clapping  her  hands,  "  there  goes  a  dear 
old  English  gull !  How  I  have  wished  to  see  him  !  I  haven't 
seen  one  for  two  years  and  seven  months.     When  I'm  at 


26  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

home,  I'll  leave  my  window  open  all  night,  just  to  hear  the 
rooks,  when  they  wake  in  the  morning.    There  goes  another." 

She  tossed  up  her  nose  again,  exclaiming: 

"I'm  sure  I  smell  England  nearer  and  nearer!  I  smell 
the  fields,  and  the  cows  in  them.  I'd  have  given  anything 
to  be  a  dairy-maid  for  half  an  hour !  I  used  to  lie  and  pant 
in  that  stifling  air  among  those  stupid  people,  and  wonder 
why  anybody  ever  left  England.  Aren't  you  glad  to  come 
back?" 

This  time  the  fair  speaker  lent  her  eyes  to  the  question, 
and  shut  her  lips ;  sweet,  cold,  chaste  lips  she  had :  a  mouth 
that  had  not  yet  dreamed  of  kisses,  and  most  honest  eyes. 

The  young  man  felt  that  they  were  not  to  be  satisfied  by 
his  own,  and  after  seeking  to  fill  them  with  a  doleful  look, 
which  was  immediately  succeeded  by  one  of  superhuman 
indifference,  he  answered : 

"Yes!  We  shall  soon  have  to  part!"  and  commenced 
tapping  with  his  foot  the  cheerful  martyr's  march. 

Speech  that  has  to  be  hauled  from  the  depths  usually 
betrays  the  effort.  Listening  an  instant  to  catch  the  import 
of  this  cavernous  gasp  upon  the  brink  of  sound,  the  girl 
said : 

"  Part  ?  what  do  you  mean  ?  " 

Apparently  it  required  a  yet  vaster  effort  to  pronounce  an 
explanation.  The  doleful  look,  the  superhuman  indiffer- 
ence, were  repeated  in  due  order:  sound,  a  little  more 
distinct,  uttered  the  words : 

"  We  cannot  be  as  we  have  been,  in  England ! "  and  then 
the  cheerful  martyr  took  a  few  steps  farther. 

"  Why,  you  don't  mean  to  say  you're  going  to  give  me  up, 
and  not  be  friends  with  me,  because  we've  come  back  to 
England  ? "  cried  the  girl  in  a  rapid  breath,  eyeing  him 
seriously. 

Most  conscientiously  he  did  not  mean  it !  but  he  replied 
with  the  quietest  negative. 

"  No  ?"  she  mimicked  him.  "  Why  do  you  say  *  No '  like 
that?  Why  are  you  so  mysterious,  Evan?  Won't  you 
promise  me  to  come  and  stop  with  us  for  weeks  ?  Haven't 
you  said  we  would  ride,  and  hunt,  and  fish  together,  and 
read  books,  and  do  all  sorts  of  things  ?  " 

^e  replied  with  the  quietest  afiirmative. 


ON  BOARD  THE  JOCASTA  27 

«  Yes  ?  What  does  '  Yes ! '  mean  ?  "  She  lifted  her  chest 
to  shake  out  the  dead-alive  monosyllable,  as  he  had  done. 
"Why  are  you  so  singular  this  morning,  Evan?  Have  I 
offended  you  ?     You  are  so  touchy  ! " 

The  slur  on  his  reputation  for  sensitiveness  induced  the 
young  man  to  attempt  being  more  explicit. 

"  I  mean,"  he  said,  hesitating ;  "  why,  we  must  part.  We 
shall  not  see  each  other  every  day.  Nothing  more  than 
that."  And  away  went  the  cheerful  martyr  in  sublimest 
mood. 

"  Oh !  and  that  makes  you  sorry  ?  "  A  shade  of  archness 
was  in  her  voice. 

The  girl  waited  as  if  to  collect  something  in  her  mind, 
and  was  now  a  patronizing  woman. 

"  Why,  you  dear  sentimental  boy !  You  don't  suppose  we 
could  see  each  other  every  day  for  ever  ? " 

It  was  perhaps  the  crudest  question  that  could  have  been 
addressed  to  the  sentimental  boy  from  her  mouth.  But  he 
was  a  cheerful  martyr ! 

"  You  dear  Don  Doloroso ! "  she  resumed.  "  I  declare  if 
you  are  not  just  like  those  young  Portugals  this  morning; 
and  over  there  you  were  such  a  dear  English  fellow;  and 
that's  why  I  liked  you  so  much!  Do  change!  Do,  please, 
be  lively,  and  yourself  again.  Or  mind ;  I'll  call  you  Don 
Doloroso,  and  that  shall  be  your  name  in  England,  See 
there !  — that's  —  that's  ?  —  what's  the  name  of  that  place  ? 
Hoy !  Mr.  Skerne  ! "  She  hailed  the  boatswain,  passing, 
"Do  tell  me  the  name  of  that  place." 

Mr.  Skerne  righted  about  to  satisfy  her  minutely,  and 
then  coming  up  to  Evan,  he  touched  his  hat,  and  said : 

"  I  mayn't  have  another  opportunity  —  we  shall  be  busy 
up  there  —  of  thankin'  you  again,  sir,  for  what  you  did  for 
my  poor  drunken  brother  Bill,  and  you  may  take  my  word  I 
won't  forget  it,  sir,  if  he  does ;  and  I  suppose  he'll  be  drown- 
ing his  memory  just  as  he  was  near  drowning  himself." 

Evan  muttered  something,  grimaced  civilly,  and  turned 
away.  The  girl's  observant  brows  were  moved  to  a  faintly 
critical  frown,  and  nodding  intelligently  to  the  boatswain's 
remark,  that  the  young  gentleman  did  not  seem  quite  him- 
self, now  that  he  was  nearing  home,  she  went  up  to  Evan, 
and  said : 


28  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"  I'm  going  to  give  you  a  lesson  in  manners,  to  be  quits 
with  you.  Listen,  sir.  Why  did  you  turn  away  so  un- 
graciously from  Mr.  Skerne,  while  he  was  thanking  you  for 
having  saved  his  brother's  life  ?  Now  there's  where  you're 
too  English.     Can't  you  bear  to  be  thanked  ?  " 

"  I  don't  want  to  be  thanked  because  I  can  swim,"  said 
Evan. 

"  But  it  is  not  that.  Oh,  how  you  trifle ! "  she  cried. 
"  There's  nothing  vexes  me  so  much  as  that  way  you  have. 
AVouldn't  my  eyes  have  sparkled  if  anybody  had  come  up  to 
me  to  thank  me  for  such  a  thing  ?  I  would  let  them  know 
how  glad  I  was  to  have  done  such  a  thing!  Doesn't  it 
make  them  happier,  dear  Evan?" 

"  My  dear  Miss  Jocelyn ! " 

"What?" 

The  honest  grey  eyes  fixed  on  him,  narrowed  their  en- 
larged lids.     She  gazed  before  her  on  the  deck,  saying: 

"  I'm  sure  I  can't  understand  you.  I  suppose  it's  because 
I'm  a  girl,  and  I  never  shall  till  I'm  a  woman.     Heigho ! " 

A  youth  who  is  engaged  in  the  occupation  of  eating  his 
heart,  cannot  shine  to  advantage,  and  is  as  much  a  burden 
to  himself  as  he  is  an  enigma  to  others.  Evan  felt  this ; 
but  he  could  do  nothing  and  say  nothing;  so  he  retired 
deeper  into  the  folds  of  the  Don,  and  remained  picturesque 
and  scarcely  pleasant. 

They  were  relieved  by  a  summons  to  breakfast  from 
below. 

She  brightened  and  laughed.  "  Now,  what  will  you  wager 
me,  Evan,  that  the  Countess  doesn't  begin :  *  Sweet  child ! 
how  does  she  this  morning  ?  blooming  ? '  when  she  kisses 
me?" 

Her  capital  imitation  of  his  sister's  manner  constrained 
him  to  join  in  her  laugh,  and  he  said: 

"I'll  back  against  that,  I  get  three  fingers  from  your 
uncle,  and  '  Morrow,  young  sir ! ' " 

Down  they  ran  together,  laughing ;  and,  sure  enough,  the 
identical  words  of  the  respective  greetings  were  employed, 
which  they  had  to  enjoy  with  all  the  discretion  they  could 
muster. 

Rose  went  round  the  table  to  her  little  cousin  Alec, 
aged  seven,  kissed  his  reluctant  cheek,  and  sat  beside  him, 


ON  BOARD  THE  JOCASTA  29 

announcing  a  sea  appetite  and  great  capabilities,  while  Evan 
silently  broke  bread.  The  Count  de  Saldar,  a  diminutive 
tawny  man,  just  a  head  and  neck  above  the  tablecloth,  sat 
sipping  chocolate  and  fingering  dry  toast,  which  he  would 
now  and  then  dip  in  jelly,  and  suck  with  placidity,  in  the 
intervals  of  a  curt  exchange  of  French  with  the  wife  of  the 
Hon.  Melville,  a  ringleted  English  lady,  or  of  Portuguese 
with  the  Countess,  who  likewise  sipped  chocolate  and 
fingered  dry  toast,  and  was  mournfully  melodious.  The 
Hon.  Melville,  as  became  a  tall  islander,  carved  beef,  and 
ate  of  it,  like  a  ruler  of  men.  Beautiful  to  see  was  the  com- 
passionate sympathy  of  the  Countess's  face  when  Rose 
offered  her  plate  for  a  portion  of  the  world-subjugating 
viand,  as  who  should  say :  "  Sweet  child  !  thou  knowest  not 
yet  of  sorrows,  thou  canst  ballast  thy  stomach  with  beef ! " 
In  any  other  than  an  heiress,  she  would  probably  have 
thought:  "This  is  indeed  a  disgusting  little  animal,  and 
most  unfeminine  conduct ! " 

Rose,  unconscious  of  praise  or  blame,  rivalled  her  uncle  in 
enjoyment  of  the  fare,  and  talked  of  her  delight  in  seeing 
England  again,  and  anything  that  belonged  to  her  native 
land.  Mrs.  Melville  perceived  that  it  pained  the  refugee 
Countess,  and  gave  her  the  glance  intelligible;  but  the 
Countess  never  missed  glances,  or  failed  to  interpret  them. 
She  said : 

"  Let  her.     I  love  to  hear  the  sweet  child's  prattle." 

"  It  was  fortunate  "  (she  addressed  the  diplomatist)  "  that 
we  touched  at  Southampton  and  procured  fresh  provision!" 

''  Very  lucky  for  us ! "  said  he,  glaring  shrewdly  between 
a  mouthful. 

The  Count  heard  the  word  "  Southampton,"  and  wished 
to  know  how  it  was  comprised.  A  passage  of  Portuguese 
ensued,  and  then  the  Countess  said : 

"Silva,  you  know,  desired  to  relinquish  the  vessel  at 
Southampton.  He  does  not  comprehend  the  word  '  expense,' 
but "  (she  shook  a  dumb  Alas !)  "  I  must  think  of  that  for 
him  now ! " 

"  Oh !  always  avoid  expense,"  said  the  Hon.  Melville, 
accustomed  to  be  paid  for  by  his  country. 

"At  what  time  shall  we  arrive,  may  I  ask,  do  you  think?  " 
the  Countess  gently  inquired. 


30  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

The  watch  of  a  man  who  had  his  eye  on  Time  was  pulled 
out,  and  she  was  told  it  might  be  two  hours  before  dark. 
Another  reckoning,  keenly  balanced,  informed  the  company 
that  the  day's  papers  could  be  expected  on  board  somewhere 
about  three  o'clock  in  the  afternoon. 

"And  then,"  said  the  Hon.  Melville,  nodding  general 
gratulation,  "we  shall  know  how  the  world  wags." 

How  it  had  been  wagging  the  Countess's  straining  eyes 
under  closed  eyelids  were  eloquent  of. 

"Too  late,  I  fear  me,  to  wait  upon  Lord  Livelyston  to- 
night ?  "  she  suggested. 

"To-night?"  The  Hon.  Melville  gazed  blank  astonish- 
ment at  the  notion.  "Oh!  certainly,  too  late  to-night. 
A  —  hum !  I  think,  madam,  you  had  better  not  be  in  too 
great  a  hurry  to  see  him.  Repose  a  little.  Recover  your 
fatigue." 

"  Oh ! "  exclaimed  the  Countess,  with  a  beam  of  utter 
confidence  in  him,  "  I  shall  be  too  happy  to  place  myself  in 
your  hands — believe  me." 

This  was  scarcely  more  to  the  taste  of  the  diplomatist. 
He  put  up  his  mouth,  and  said,  blandly : 

"I  fear — you  know,  madam,  I  must  warn  you  beforehand 
—  I,  personally,  am  but  an  insignificant  unit  over  here,  you 
know ;  I,  personally,  can't  guarantee  much  assistance  to  you 
— not  positive.  What  I  can  do  —  of  course,  very  happy!" 
And  he  fell  to  again  upon  the  beef. 

"IS'ot  so  very  insignificant !  "  said  the  Countess,  smiling, 
as  at  a  softly  radiant  conception  of  him. 

"  Have  to  bob  and  bow  like  the  rest  of  them  over  here," 
he  added,  proof  against  the  flattery. 

"But  that  you  will  not  forsake  Silva,  I  am  convinced," 
said  the  Countess;  and,  paying  little  heed  to  his  brief  "Oh! 
what  I  can  do,"  continued :  "  For  over  here,  in  England,  we 
are  almost  friendless.  My  relations  —  such  as  are  left  of 
them  —  are  not  in  high  place."  She  turned  to  Mrs.  Melville, 
and  renewed  the  confession  with  a  proud  humility.  "  Truly, 
I  have  not  a  distant  cousin  in  the  Cabinet ! " 

Mrs.  Melville  met  her  sad  smile,  and  returned  it,  as  one 
who  understood  its  entire  import. 

"My  brother-in-law  —  my  sister,  I  think,  you  know  — 
married  a  —  a  brewer!     He  is  rich;  but,  well!   such  was 


ON  BOARD  THE  JOCASTA  31 

her  taste !  My  brother-in-law  is  indeed  in  Parliament,  and 
he  —  " 

"  Very  little  use,  seeing  he  votes  with  the  opposite  party," 
the  diplomatist  interrupted  her. 

"  Ah  !  but  he  will  not,"  said  the  Countess,  serenely.  "  I 
can  trust  with  confidence  that,  if  it  is  for  Silva's  interest, 
he  will  assuredly  so  dispose  of  his  influence  as  to  suit  the 
desiderations  of  his  family,  and  not  in  any  way  oppose  his 
opinions  to  the  powers  that  would  willingly  stoop  to  serve 
us ! " 

It  was  impossible  for  the  Hon.  Melville  to  withhold  a 
slight  grimace  at  his  beef,  when  he  heard  this  extremely 
alienized  idea  of  the  nature  of  a  member  of  the  Parliament 
of  Great  Britain.  He  allowed  her  to  enjoy  her  delusion,  as 
she  pursued : 

"No.  So  much  we  could  offer  in  repayment.  It  is  little! 
But  this,  in  verity,  is  a  case.  Silva's  wrongs  have  only  to 
be  known  in  England,  and  I  am  most  assured  that  the  Eng- 
lish people  will  not  permit  it.  In  the  days  of  his  prosperity, 
Silva  was  a  friend  to  England,  and  England  should  not  — 
should  not  —  forget  it  now.  Had  we  money  !  But  of  that 
arm  our  enemies  have  deprived  us :  and,  I  fear,  without  it 
we  cannot  hope  to  have  the  justice  of  our  cause  pleaded 
in  the  English  papers.  Mr.  Kedner,  you  know,  the  corre- 
spondent in  Lisbon,  is  a  sworn  foe  to  Silva.  And  why  but 
because  I  would  not  procure  him  an  invitation  to  Court ! 
The  man  was  so  horridly  vulgar ;  his  gloves  were  never 
clean ;  I  had  to  hold  a  bouquet  to  my  nose  when  I  talked  to 
him.  That,  you  say,  was  my  fault !  Truly  so.  But  what 
woman  can  be  civil  to  a  low-bred,  pretentious,  offensive 
man  ?  " 

Mrs.  Melville,  again  appealed  to,  smiled  perfect  sympathy, 
and  said,  to  account  for  his  character : 

"  Yes.  He  is  the  son  of  a  small  shopkeeper  of  some  kind, 
in  Southampton,  I  hear." 

"  A  very  good  fellow  in  his  way,"  said  her  husband. 

"  Oh !  I  can't  bear  that  class  of  people,"  Eose  exclaimed. 
"I  always  keep  out  of  their  way.  You  can  always  tell 
them." 

The  Countess  smiled  considerate  approbation  of  her  exclu- 
siveness  and  discernment.     So  sweet  a  smile ! 


32  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"  You  were  on  deck  early,  my  dear  ? "  she  asked  Evan, 
rather  abruptly. 

Master  Alec  answered  for  him :  "  Yes,  he  was,  and  so  was 
Rose.  They  made  an  appointment,  just  as  they  used  to  do 
under  the  oranges." 

"  Children ! "  the  Countess  smiled  to  Mrs.  Melville. 

"  They  always  whisper  when  I'm  by,"  Alec  appended. 

"  Children  ! "  the  Countess's  sweetened  visage  entreated 
Mrs.  Melville  to  re-echo ;  but  that  lady  thought  it  best  for 
the  moment  to  direct  Rose  to  look  to  her  packing,  now  that 
she  had  done  breakfast. 

"  And  I  will  take  a  walk  with  my  brother  on  deck,"  said 
the  Countess.     "  Silva  is  too  harassed  for  converse." 

The  parties  were  thus  divided.  The  silent  Count  was  left 
to  meditate  on  his  wrongs  in  the  saloon ;  and  the  diplomatist, 
alone  with  his  lady,  thought  fit  to  say  to  her,  shortly :  "  Per- 
haps it  would  be  as  well  to  draw  away  from  these  people  a 
little.  We've  done  as  much  as  we  could  for  them,  in  bring- 
ing them  over  here.  They  may  be  trying  to  compromise  us. 
That  woman's  absurd.  She's  ashamed  of  the  brewer,  and 
yet  she  wants  to  sell  him  —  or  wants  us  to  buy  him.  Ha! 
I  think  she  wants  us  to  send  a  couple  of  frigates,  and 
threaten  bombardment  of  the  capital,  if  they  don't  take  her 
husband  back,  and  receive  him  Avith  honours." 

"  Perhaps  it  would  be  as  well,"  said  Mrs.  Melville.  "  Rose's 
invitation  to  him  goes  for  nothing." 

"Rose?  inviting  the  Count?  down  to  Hampshire ? "  The 
diplomatist's  brows  were  lifted. 

"  No,  I  mean  the  other,"  said  the  diplomatist's  wife. 

"  Oh !  the  young  fellow !  very  good  young  fellow.  Gentle- 
manly.    No  harm  in  him." 

"  Perhaps  not,"  said  the  diplomatist's  wife. 

"  You  don't  suppose  he  expects  us  to  keep  him  on,  or  pro- 
vide for  him  over  here  —  eh  ?  " 

The  diplomatist's  wife  informed  him  that  such  was  not 
her  thought,  that  he  did  not  understand,  and  that  it  did  not 
matter ;  and  as  soon  as  the  Hon.  Melville  saw  that  she  was 
brooding  something  essentially  feminine,  and  which  had  no 
relationship  to  the  great  game  of  public  life,  curiosity  was 
extinguished  in  him. 

On  deck  the  Countess  paced  with  Evan,  and  was  for  a 


ON  BOARD  THE  JOCASTA  83 

time  pleasantly  diverted  by  the  admiration  she  could,  with- 
out looking,  perceive  that  her  sorrow-subdued  graces  had 
aroused  in  the  breast  of  a  susceptible  naval  lieutenant.  At 
last  she  spoke : 

"  My  dear !  remember,  this.  Your  last  word  to  Mr.  Joce- 
lyn  will  be :  *  I  will  do  myself  the  honour  to  call  upon  my 
benefactor  early.'  To  Rose  you  will  say :  *  Be  assured, 
Miss  Jocelyn '  —  Miss  Jocelyn  — '  I  shall  not  fail  in  hasten- 
ing to  pay  my  respects  to  your  family  in  Hampshire.'  You 
will  remember  to  do  it,  in  the  exact  form  I  speak  it." 

Evan  laughed :  "  What !  call  him  benefactor  to  his  face  ? 
I  couldn't  do  it." 
"  Ah  !  my  child ! " 

"  Besides,  he  isn't  a  benefactor  at  all.  His  private  secre. 
tary  died,  and  I  stepped  in  to  fill  the  post,  because  nobody 
else  was  handy." 

"  And  tell  me  of  her  who  pushed  you  forward,  Evan  ?  " 
"  My  dear  sister,  I'm  sure  I'm  not  ungrateful." 
"  No  ;  but  headstrong :  opinionated.  Now  these  people 
will  endeavour  —  Oh!  I  have  seen  it  in  a  thousand  little 
things — they  wish  to  shake  us  off.  Now,  if  you  will  but  do 
as  I  indicate !  Put  your  faith  in  an  older  head,  Evan.  It  is 
your  only  chance  of  society  in  England.  For  your  brother- 
in-law  —  I  ask  you,  what  sort  of  people  will  you  meet  at  the 
Cogglesbys  ?  Now  and  then  a  nobleman,  very  much  out  of 
his  element.  In  short,  you  have  fed  upon  a  diet  which  will 
make  you  to  distinguish,  and  painfully  to  know  the  differ- 
ence !  Indeed !  Yes,  you  are  looking  about  for  Rose.  It 
depends  upon  your  behaviour  now,  whether  you  are  to  see 
her  at  all  in  England.  Do  you  forget  ?  You  wished  once 
to  inform  her  of  your  origin.  Think  of  her  words  at  the 
breakfast  this  morning ! " 

The  Countess  imagined  she  had  produced  an  impression. 
Evan  said :  "  Yes,  and  I  should  have  liked  to  have  told  her 
this  morning  that  I'm  myself  nothing  more  than  the  son  of 
a  —  " 

"  Stop ! "  cried  his  sister,  glancing  about  in  horror.     The 
admiring  lieutenant  met  her  eye.     Blandishingly  she  smiled 
on  him :    "  Most  beautiful  weather  for  a  welcome  to  dear 
England  ?  "  and  passed  with  majesty. 
"  Boy  ! "  she  resumed,  "  are  you  mad  ?  " 


34  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"  I  hate  being  such  a  hypocrite,  madam." 

"  Then  you  do  not  love  her,  Evan  ?  " 

This  may  have  been  dubious  logic,  but  it  resulted  from  a 
clear  sequence  of  ideas  in  the  lady's  head.  Evan  did  not 
contest  it. 

"And  assuredly  you  will  lose  her,  Evan.  Think  of  my 
troubles !  I  have  to  intrigue  for  Silva;  I  look  to  your  future ; 
I  smile,  Oh  heaven !  how  do  I  not  smile  when  things  are 
spoken  that  pierce  my  heart !  This  morning  at  the  break- 
fast ! " 

Evan  took  her  hand,  and  patted  it. 

"  What  is  your  pity  ?  "  she  sighed. 

"  If  it  had  not  been  for  you,  my  dear  sister,  I  should  never 
have  held  my  tongue." 

"  You  are  not  a  Harrington !  You  are  a  Dawley  ! "  she 
exclaimed,  indignantly. 

Evan  received  the  accusation  of  possessing  more  of  his 
mother's  spirit  than  his  father's  in  silence. 

"You  would  not  have  held  your  tongue,"  she  said,  with 
fervid  severity:  "and  you  would  have  betrayed  yourself! 
and  you  would  have  said  you  were  that!  and  you  in  that 
costume !  Why,  goodness  gracious !  could  you  bear  to  appear 
so  ridiculous  ?  " 

The  poor  young  man  involuntarily  surveyed  his  person. 
The  pains  of  an  impostor  seized  him.  The  deplorable  image 
of  the  Don  making  confession  became  present  to  his  mind. 
It  was  a  clever  stroke  of  this  female  intriguer.  She  saw 
him  redden  grievously,  and  blink  his  eyes;  and  not  wishing 
to  probe  him  so  that  he  would  feel  intolerable  disgust  at 
his  imprisonment  in  the  Don,  she  continued : 

"  But  you  have  the  sense  to  see  your  duties,  Evan.  You 
have  an  excellent  sense,  in  the  main.  No  one  would  dream 
—  to  see  you.  You  did  not,  I  must  say,  you  did  not  make 
enough  of  your  gallantry.  A  Portuguese  who  had  saved 
a  man's  life,  Evan,  would  he  have  been  so  boorish?  You 
behaved  as  if  it  was  a  matter  of  course  that  you  should  go 
overboard  after  anybody,  in  your  clothes,  on  a  dark  night. 
So,  then,  the  Jocelyns  took  it.  I  barely  heard  one  com- 
pliment to  you.  And  Rose  —  what  an  effect  it  should  have 
had  on  her!  But,  owing  to  your  manner,  I  do  believe  the 
girl  thinks  it  nothing  but  your  ordinary  business  to  go 


ON  BOABD  THE  JOCASTA  86 

overboard  after  anybody,  in  yonr  clothes,  on  a  dark  night. 
'Pon  my  honour,  I  believe  she  expects  to  see  you  always 
dripping ! "  The  Countess  uttered  a  burst  of  hysterical 
humour.  "So  you  miss  your  credit.  That  inebriated 
sailor  should  really  have  been  gold  to  you.  Be  not  so 
young  and  thoughtless," 

The  Countess  then  proceeded  to  tell  him  how  foolishly 
he  had  let  slip  his  great  opportunity.  A  Portuguese  would 
have  fixed  the  young  lady  long  before.  By  tender  moon- 
light, in  captivating  language,  beneath  the  umbrageous 
orange-groves,  a  Portuguese  would  have  accurately  calcu- 
lated the  effect  of  the  perfume  of  the  blossom  on  her  sensi- 
tive nostrils,  and  known  the  exact  moment  when  to  kneel, 
and  declare  his  passion  sonorously, 

"  Yes,"  said  Evan,  "  one  of  them  did.     She  told  me." 

"  She  told  you  ?     And  you  —  what  did  you  do  ?  " 

"  Laughed  at  him  with  her,  to  be  sure," 

"  Laughed  at  him !  She  told  you,  and  you  helped  her  to 
laugh  at  love !  Have  you  no  perceptions  ?  Why  did  she 
tell  you  ?  " 

"  Because  she  thought  him  such  a  fool,  I  suppose," 

"  You  never  will  know  a  woman,"  said  the  Countess,  with 
contempt. 

Much  of  his  worldly  sister  at  a  time  was  more  than  Evan 
could  bear.  Accustomed  to  the  symptoms  of  restiveness, 
she  finished  her  discourse,  enjoyed  a  quiet  parade  up  and 
down  under  the  gaze  of  the  lieutenant,  and  could  find  leisure 
to  note  whether  she  at  all  struck  the  inferior  seamen,  even 
while  her  mind  was  absorbed  by  the  multiform  troubles  and 
anxieties  for  which  she  took  such  innocent  indemnification. 

The  appearance  of  the  Hon.  Melville  Jocelyn  on  deck, 
and  without  his  wife,  recalled  her  to  business.  It  is  a  pecu- 
liarity of  female  diplomatists  that  they  fear  none  save  their 
own  sex.  Men  they  regard  as  their  natural  prey :  in  women 
they  see  rival  hunters  using  their  own  weapons.  The 
Countess  smiled  a  slowly-kindling  smile  up  to  him,  set 
her  brother  adrift,  and  delicately  linked  herself  to  Evan's 
benefactor, 

"I  have  been  thinking,"  she  said,  "knowing  your  kind 
and  most  considerate  attentions,  that  we  may  compromise 
you  in  England," 


36  EVAN  HAKRINGTON 

He  at  once  assured  her  he  hoped  not,  he  thought  not  at  alL 

^  I    "  The  idea  is  due  to  my  brother,"  she  went  on  ;  "  for  I  — 

•women  know  so  little!  —  and  most  guiltlessly  should  we 

have  done  so.     My  brother  perhaps  does  not  think  of  us 

■  foremost ;  but  his  argument  I  can  distinguish.     I  can  see, 

that  were  you  openly  to  plead  Silva's  cause,  you  might 

bring  yourself  into  odium,  Mr.  Jocelyn ;  and  heaven  knows 

I  would  not  that !     May  I  then  ask,  that  in  England  we 

may  be  simply  upon  the  same  footing  of  private  friendship  ?  " 

The  diplomatist  looked  into  her  uplifted  visage,  that  had 
all  the  sugary  sparkles  of  a  crystallized  preserved  fruit  of 
the  Portugal  clime,  and  observed,  confidentially,  that,  with 
every  willingness  in  the  world  to  serve  her,  he  did  think 
it  would  possibly  be  better,  for  a  time,  to  be  upon  that 
footing,  apart  from  political  considerations. 

"I  was  very  sure  my  brother  would  apprehend  your 
views,"  said  the  Countess.  "  He,  poor  boy !  his  career  is 
closed.  He  must  sink  into  a  different  sphere.  He  will 
greatly  'miss  the  intercourse  with  you  and  your  sweet 
family." 

Further  relieved,  the  diplomatist  delivered  a  high  opinion 
of  the  young  gentleman,  his  abilities,  and  his  conduct,  and 
trusted  he  should  see  him  frequently. 

By  an  apparent  sacrifice,  the  lady  thus  obtained  what  she 
wanted. 

Near  the  hour  speculated  on  by  the  diplomatist,  the 
papers  came  on  board,  and  he,  unaware  how  he  had  been 
manoeuvred  for  lack  of  a  wife  at  his  elbow,  was  quickly 
engaged  in  appeasing  the  great  British  hunger  for  news; 
second  only  to  that  for  beef,  it  seems,  and  equally  accept- 
able salted  when  it  cannot  be  had  fresh. 

Leaving  the  devotee  of  statecraft  with  his  legs  crossed, 
and  his  face  wearing  the  cognizant  air  of  one  whose  head 
is  above  the  waters  of  events,  to  enjoy  the  mighty  meal 
of  fresh  and  salted  at  discretion,  the  Countess  dived  below. 

Meantime  the  Jocasta,  as  smoothly  as  before  she  was 
ignorant  of  how  the  world  wagged,  slipped  up  the  river 
with  the  tide ;  and  the  sun  hung  red  behind  the  forest  of 
masts,  burnishing  a  broad  length  of  the  serpentine  haven 
of  the  nations  of  the  earth.  A  young  Englishman  return- 
ing home  can  hardly  look  on  this  scene  without  some  pride 


ON  BOARD  THE  JOCASTA  37 

of  kinship.  Evan  stood  at  the  fore  part  of  the  vessel. 
Rose,  in  quiet  English  attire,  had  escaped  from  her  aunt 
to  join  him,  singing  in  his  ears,  to  spur  his  senses :  "  Isn't 
it  beautiful  ?     Isn't  it  beautiful  ?     Dear  old  England ! " 

"  What  do  you  find  so  beautiful  ?  "  he  asked. 

"  Oh,  you  dull  fellow !  Why  the  ships,  and  the  houses, 
and  the  smoke,  to  be  sure." 

"  The  ships  ?  Why,  I  thought  you  despised  trade,  made- 
moiselle ?  " 

"  And  so  I  do.  That  is,  not  trade,  but  tradesmen.  Of 
course,  I  mean  shopkeepers." 

"  It's  they  who  send  the  ships  to  and  fro,  and  make  the 
picture  that  pleases  you,  nevertheless." 

"  Do  they  ?  "  said  she,  indifferently,  and  then  with  a  sort 
of  fervour,  "  Why  do  you  always  grow  so  cold  to  me  when- 
ever we  get  on  this  subject  ?  " 

"  I  cold  ?  "  Evan  responded.  The  incessant  fears  of  his 
diplomatic  sister  had  succeeded  in  making  him  painfully 
jealous  of  this  subject.  He  turned  it  off.  "Why,  our  feel- 
ings are  just  the  same.  Do  you  know  what  I  was  thinking 
when  you  came  up  ?  I  was  thinking  that  I  hoped  I  might 
never  disgrace  the  name  of  an  Englishman." 

"  IN'ow,  that's  noble ! "  cried  the  girl.  "  And  I'm  sure  you 
never  will.  Of  an  English  gentleman,  Evan.  I  like  that 
better." 

"  Would  you  rather  be  called  a  true  English  lady  than  a 
true  English  woman.  Rose  ?  " 

"Don't  think  I  would,  my  dear,"  she  answered,  pertly; 
"but  'gentleman'  always  means  more  than  'man'  to  me." 

"  And  what's  a  gentleman,  mademoiselle  ?  " 

"  Can't  tell  you,  Don  Doloroso.  Something  you  are,  sir," 
she  added,  surveying  him. 

Evan  sucked  the  bitter  and  the  sweet  of  her  explanation. 
His  sister  in  her  anxiety  to  put  him  on  his  guard,  had  not 
beguiled  him  to  forget  his  real  state. 

His  sister,  the  diplomatist  and  his  lady,  the  refugee  Coimt, 
with  ladies'  maids,  servants,  and  luggage,  were  now  on  the 
main-deck,  and  Master  Alec,  who  was  as  good  as  a  newspaper 
correspondent  for  private  conversations,  put  an  end  to  the 
colloquy  of  the  young  people.  They  were  all  assembled  in  a 
circle  when  the  vessel  came  to  her  moorings.   The  diplomatist 


88  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

glutted  with  news,  and  thirsting  for  confirmations ;  the  Count 
dumb,  courteous,  and  quick-eyed ;  the  honourable  lady  com- 
placent in  the  consciousness  of  boxes  well  packed;  the 
Countess  breathing  mellifluous  long-drawn  adieux  that  should 
provoke  invitations.     Evan  and  Rose  regarded  each  other. 

The  boat  to  convey  them  on  shore  was  being  lowered,  and 
they  were  preparing  to  move  forward.  Just  then  the  vessel 
was  boarded  by  a  stranger. 

"  Is  that  one  of  the  creatures  of  your  Customs  ?  I  did 
imagine  we  were  safe  from  them,"  exclaimed  the  Countess. 

The  diplomatist  laughingly  requested  her  to  save  herself 
anxiety  on  that  score,  while  under  his  wing.  But  she  had 
drawn  attention  to  the  intruder,  who  was  seen  addressing  one 
of  the  midshipmen.  He  was  a  man  in  a  long  brown  coat  and 
loose  white  neckcloth,  spectacles  on  nose,  which  he  wore  con- 
siderably below  the  bridge  and  peered  over,  as  if  their  main 
use  were  to  sight  his  eye ;  a  beaver  hat,  with  broadish  brim, 
on  his  head.  A  man  of  no  station,  it  was  evident  to  the 
ladies  at  once,  and  they  would  have  taken  no  further  notice 
of  him  had  he  not  been  seen  stepping  toward  them  in  the 
rear  of  the  young  midshipman. 

The  latter  came  to  Evan,  and  said:  "A  fellow  of  the 
name  of  Goren  wants  you.  Says  there's  something  the 
matter  at  home." 

Evan  advanced,  and  bowed  stiffly. 

Mr.  Goren  held  out  his  hand.  "  You  don't  remember  me, 
young  man  ?  I  cut  out  your  first  suit  for  you  when  you 
were  breeched,  though !  Yes  —  ah !  Your  poor  father 
wouldn't  put  his  hand  to  it.     Goren !  " 

Embarrassed,  and  not  quite  alive  to  the  chapter  of  facts 
this  name  should  have  opened  to  him,  Evan  bowed  again. 

"  Goren ! "  continued  the  possessor  of  the  name.  He  had 
a  cracked  voice,  that  when  he  spoke  a  word  of  two  syllables, 
commenced  with  a  lugubrious  crow,  and  ended  in  what  one 
might  have  taken  for  a  curious  question. 

"  It  is  a  bad  business  brings  me,  young  man.  I'm  not  the 
best  messenger  for  such  tidings.  It's  a  black  suit,  young 
man !     It's  your  father !  " 

The  diplomatist  and  his  lady  gradually  edged  back :  but 
Rose  remained  beside  the  Countess,  who  breathed  quick,  and 
seemed  to  have  lost  her  self-command. 


ON  BOARD  THE  JOCASTA  39 

Thinking  he  was  apprehended,  Mr.  Goren  said:  "I'm 
going  down  to-night  to  take  care  of  the  shop.  He's  to  be 
buried  in  his  old  uniform.  You  had  better  come  with  me 
by  the  night-coach,  if  you  would  see  the  last  of  him,  young 
man." 

Breaking  an  odd  pause  that  had  fallen,  the  Countess  cried 
aloud,  suddenly: 

"  In  his  uniform !  " 

Mr.  Goren  felt  his  arm  seized  and  his  legs  hurrying  him 
some  paces  into  isolation.  "  Thanks !  thanks !  "  was  mur- 
mured in  his  ear.  "Not  a  word  more.  Evan  cannot  bear 
it.  Oh!  you  are  good  to  have  come,  and  we  are  grateful. 
My  father!  my  father!" 

She  had  to  tighten  her  hand  and  wrist  against  her  bosom 
to  keep  herself  up.  She  had  to  reckon  in  a  glance  how 
much  Rose  had  heard,  or  divined.  She  had  to  mark  whether 
the  Count  had  understood  a  syllable.  She  had  to  whisper 
to  Evan  to  hasten  away  with  the  horrible  man.  She  had 
to  enliven  his  stunned  senses,  and  calm  her  own.  And 
with  mournful  images  of  her  father  in  her  brain,  the  female 
Spartan  had  to  turn  to  Rose,  and  speculate  on  the  girl's 
reflective  brows,  while  she  said,  as  over  a  distant  relative, 
sadly,  but  without  distraction :  "  A  death  in  the  family !  " 
and  preserved  herself  from  weeping  her  heart  out,  that  none 
might  guess  the  thing  who  did  not  positively  know  it. 

Evan  touched  the  hand  of  Rose  without  meeting  her  eyes. 
He  was  soon  cast  off  in  Mr.  Goren's  boat.  Then  the  Count- 
ess murmured  final  adieux;  twilight  under  her  lids,  but  yet 
a  smile,  stately,  affectionate,  almost  genial.  Rose,  her 
sweet  Rose,  she  must  kiss.  She  could  have  slapped  Rose 
for  appearing  so  reserved  and  cold.  She  hugged  Rose,  as 
to  hug  oblivion  of  the  last  few  minutes  into  her.  The  girl 
leant  her  cheek,  and  bore  the  embrace,  looking  on  her  with 
a  kind  of  wonder. 

Only  when  alone  with  the  Count,  in  the  brewer's  carriage 
awaiting  her  on  shore,  did  the  lady  give  a  natural  course  to 
her  grief;  well  knowing  that  her  Silva  would  attribute  it 
to  the  darkness  of  their  common  exile.  She  wept:  but  in 
the  excess  of  her  misery,  two  words  of  strangely  opposite 
signification,  pronounced  by  Mr.  Goren;  two  words  that 
were  at  once  poison  and  antidote,  sang  in  her  brain;  two 


40  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

words  that  painted  her  dead  father  from  head  to  foot,  his 
nature  and  his  fortune:  these  were  the  Shop,  and  the 
Uniform. 

Oh!  what  would  she  not  have  given  to  have  seen  and 
bestowed  on  her  beloved  father  one  last  kiss!  Oh!  how 
she  hoped  that  her  inspired  echo  of  Uniform,  on  board  the 
Jocasta,  had  drowned  the  memory,  eclipsed  the  meaning, 
of  that  fatal  utterance  of  Shop ! 


CHAPTER  V 

THE  FAMILY  AND  THE  FUNEBAL 

It  was  the  evening  of  the  second  day  since  the  arrival  of 
the  black  letter  in  London  from  Lymport,  and  the  wife  of 
the  brewer  and  the  wife  of  the  Major  sat  dropping  tears 
into  one  another's  laps,  in  expectation  of  their  sister  the 
Countess.  Mr.  Andrew  Cogglesby  had  not  yet  returned 
from  his  office.  The  gallant  Major  had  gone  forth  to  dine 
with  General  Sir  George  Frebuter,  the  head  of  the  Marines 
of  his  time.  It  would  have  been  difficult  for  the  Major,  he 
informed  his  wife,  to  send  in  an  excuse  to  the  General  for 
non-attendance,  without  entering  into  particulars ;  and  that 
he  should  tell  the  General  he  could  not  dine  with  him, 
because  of  the  sudden  decease  of  a  tailor,  was,  as  he  let  his 
wife  understand,  and  requested  her  to  perceive,  quite  out  of 
the  question.  So  he  dressed  himself  carefully,  and  though 
peremptory  with  his  wife  concerning  his  linen,  and  requir- 
ing natural  services  from  her  in  the  button  department,  and 
a  casual  expression  of  contentment  as  to  his  ultimate 
make-up,  he  left  her  that  day  without  any  final  injunctions 
to  occupy  her  mind,  and  she  was  at  liberty  to  weep  if  she 
pleased,  a  privilege  she  did  not  enjoy  undisturbed  when  he 
was  present;  for  the  warrior  hated  that  weakness,  and  did 
not  care  to  hide  his  contempt  for  it. 

Of  the  three  sisters,  the  wife  of  the  Major  was,  oddly 
enough,  the  one  who  was  least  inveterately  solicitous  of 
concealing  the  fact  of  her  parentage.     Reticence,  of  course, 


THE  FAMILY  AND  THE  FUNERAL        41 

she  had  to  study  with  the  rest;  the  Major  was  a  walking 
book  of  reticence  and  the  observances;  he  professed,  also, 
in  company  with  herself  alone,  to  have  had  much  trouble 
in  drilling  her  to  mark  and  properly  preserve  them.  She 
had  no  desire  to  speak  of  her  birthplace.  But,  for  some 
reason  or  other,  she  did  not  share  her  hero's  rather  petulant 
anxiety  to  keep  the  curtain  nailed  down  on  that  part  of  her 
life  which  preceded  her  entry  into  the  ranks  of  the  Royal 
Marines.  Some  might  have  thought  that  those  fair  large 
blue  eyes  of  hers  wandered  now  and  then  in  pleasant  un- 
ambitious walks  behind  the  curtain,  and  toyed  with  little 
flowers  of  palest  memory.  Utterly  tasteless,  totally  want- 
ing in  discernment,  not  to  say  gratitude,  the  Major  could 
not  presume  her  to  be;  and  yet  his  wits  perceived  that  her 
answers  and  the  conduct  she  shaped  in  accordance  with  his 
repeated  protests  and  long-reaching  apprehensions  of  what 
he  called  danger,  betrayed  acquiescent  obedience  more  than 
the  connubial  sympathy  due  to  him.  Danger  on  the  field 
the  Major  knew  not  of;  he  did  not  scruple  to  name  the 
word  in  relation  to  his  wife.  For,  as  he  told  her,  should 
he,  some  day,  as  in  the  chapter  of  accidents  might  occur, 
sally  into  the  street  a  Knight  Companion  of  the  Bath  and 
become  known  to  men  as  Sir  Maxwell  Strike,  it  would  be 
decidedly  disagreeable  for  him  to  be  blown  upon  by  a  wind 
from  Lymport.  Moreover  she  was  the  mother  of  a  son. 
The  Major  pointed  out  to  her  the  duty  she  owed  her  off- 
spring. Certainly  the  protecting  segis  of  his  rank  and  title 
would  be  over  the  lad,  but  she  might  depend  upon  it  any 
indiscretion  of  hers  would  damage  him  in  his  future  career, 
the  Major  assured  her.  Young  Maxwell  must  be  considered. 
For  all  this,  the  mother  and  wife,  when  the  black  letter 
found  them  in  the  morning  at  breakfast,  had  burst  into  a 
fit  of  grief,  and  faltered  that  she  wept  for  a  father.  Mrs. 
Andrew,  to  whom  the  letter  was  addressed,  had  simply  held 
the  letter  to  her  in  a  trembling  hand.  The  Major  compared 
their  behaviour,  with  marked  encomiums  of  Mrs.  Andrew. 
Now  this  lady  and  her  husband  were  in  obverse  relative 
positions.  The  brewer  had  no  will  but  his  Harriet's.  His 
esteem  for  her  combined  the  constitutional  feelings  of  an 
insignificantly-built  little  man  for  a  majestic  woman,  and 
those  of  a  worthy  soul  for  the  wife  of  his  bosom.     Possess- 


42  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

ing,  or  possessed  by  her,  the  good  brewer  was  perfectly 
happy.  She,  it  might  be  thought,  under  these  circum- 
stances, would  not  have  minded  much  his  hearing  what  he 
might  hear.  It  happened,  however,  that  she  was  as  jealous 
of  the  winds  of  Lyraport  as  the  Major  himself;  as  vigilant 
in  debarring  them  from  access  to  the  brewery  as  now  the 
Countess  could  have  been.  We  are  not  dissecting  human 
nature :  suffice  it,  therefore,  from  a  mere  glance  at  the  sur- 
face, to  say,  that  just  as  moneyed  men  are  careful  of  their 
coin,  women  who  have  all  the  advantages  in  a  conjunction, 
are  miserly  in  keeping  them,  and  shudder  to  think  that  one 
thing  remains  hidden,  which  the  world  they  move  in  might 
put  down  pityingly  in  favour  of  their  spouse,  even  though 
to  the  little  man  'twere  naught.  She  assumed  that  a  reve- 
lation would  diminish  her  moral  stature;  and  certainly  it 
would  not  increase  that  of  her  husband.  So  no  good  could 
come  of  it.  Besides,  Andrew  knew,  his  whole  conduct  was 
a  tacit  admission,  that  she  had  condescended  in  giving  him 
her  hand.  The  features  of  their  union  might  not  be  changed 
altogether  by  a  revelation,  but  it  would  be  a  shock  to  her. 

Consequently,  Harriet  tenderly  rebuked  Caroline,  for  her 
outcry  at  the  breakfast-table ;  and  Caroline,  the  elder  sister, 
who  had  not  since  marriage  grown  in  so  free  an  air,  excused 
herself  humbly,  and  the  two  were  weeping  when  the  Countess 
joined  them  and  related  what  she  had  just  undergone. 

Hearing  of  Caroline's  misdemeanour,  however,  Louisa's 
eyes  rolled  aloft  in  a  paroxysm  of  tribulation.  It  was 
nothing  to  Caroline;  it  was  comparatively  nothing  to  Har- 
riet ;  but  the  Count  knew  not  Louisa  had  a  father :  believed 
that  her  parents  had  long  ago  been  wiped  out.  And  the 
Count  was  by  nature  inquisitive :  and  if  he  once  cherished 
a  suspicion  he  was  restless ;  he  was  pointed  in  his  inquiries : 
he  was  pertinacious  in  following  out  a  clue:  there  never 
would  be  peace  with  him !  And  then  as  they  were  secure 
in  their  privacy,  Louisa  cried  aloud  for  her  father,  her 
beloved  father!  Harriet  wept  silently.  Caroline  alone 
expressed  regret  that  she  had  not  set  her  eyes  on  him  from 
the  day  she  became  a  wife. 

"How  could  we,  dear  ?"  the  Countess  pathetically  asked, 
under  drowning  lids. 

"  Papa  did  not  wish  it,"  sobbed  Mrs.  Andrew. 


THE  FAMILY  AND  THE  FUNERAL        48 

"  I  never  shall  forgive  myself ! "  said  the  wife  of  the  Major, 
drying  her  cheeks.  Perhaps  it  was  not  herself  whom  she  felt 
she  never  could  forgive. 

Ah !  the  man  their  father  was !  Incomparable  Melchisedec ! 
he  might  well  be  called.  So  generous  !  so  lordly !  When 
the  rain  of  tears  would  subside  for  a  moment,  one  would 
relate  an  anecdote  or  childish  reminiscence  of  him,  and  pro- 
voke a  more  violent  outburst. 

"  Never,  among  the  nobles  of  any  land,  never  have  I  seen 
one  like  him ! "  exclaimed  the  Countess,  and  immediately 
requested  Harriet  to  tell  her  how  it  would  be  possible  to 
stop  Andrew's  tongue  in  Silva's  presence. 

"  At  present,  you  know,  my  dear,  they  may  talk  as  much 
as  they  like  —  they  can't  understand  one  another  one  bit." 

Mrs.  Cogglesby  comforted  her  by  the  assurance  that 
Andrew  had  received  an  intimation  of  her  wish  for  silence 
everywhere  and  toward  everybody ;  and  that  he  might  be 
reckoned  upon  to  respect  it,  without  demanding  a  reason  for 
the  restriction.  In  other  days  Caroline  and  Louisa  had  a 
little  looked  down  on  Harriet's  alliance  with  a  dumpy  man 
—  a  brewer  —  and  had  always  kind  Christian  compassion  for 
him  if  his  name  were  mentioned.  They  seemed  now,  by  their 
silence,  to  have  a  happier  estimate  of  Andrew's  qualities. 

While  the  three  sisters  sat  mingling  their  sorrows  and 
alarms,  their  young  brother  was  making  his  way  to  the 
house.  As  he  knocked  at  the  door  he  heard  his  name  pro- 
nounced behind  him,  and  had  no  difficulty  in  recognizing  the 
worthy  brewer. 

"What,  Van,  my  boy!  how  are  you?  Quite  a  foreigner! 
By  George,  what  a  hat ! " 

Mr.  Andrew  bounced  back  two  or  three  steps  to  regard 
the  dusky  sombrero. 

"  How  do  you  do,  sir  ?  "  said  Evan. 

"  Sir  to  you ! "  Mr.  Andrew  briskly  replied.  "  Don't  they 
teach  you  to  give  your  fist  in  Portugal,  eh  ?  I'll  '  sir '  you. 
Wait  till  I'm  Sir  Andrew,  and  then  'sir'  away.  You  do 
speak  English  still.  Van,  eh  ?     Quite  jolly,  my  boy  ?  " 

Mr.  Andrew  rubbed  his  hands  to  express  that  state  in 
himself.  Suddenly  he  stopped,  blinked  queerly  at  Evan, 
grew  pensive,  and  said,  "  Bless  my  soul  I  I  forgot." 

The   door  opened,  Mr.  Andrew   took   Evan's  arm,  mur- 


44  EVAN  HARKINGTON 

mured  a  "  hush ! "  and  trod  gently  along  the  passage  to  his 
library. 

"  We're  safe  here,"  he  said.  "  There  —  there's  something 
the  matter  up-stairs.  The  women  are  upset  about  some- 
thing. Harriet  — "  Mr.  Andrew  hesitated,  and  branched 
off :  "  You've  heard  we've  got  a  new  baby  ?  " 

Evan  congratulated  him ;  but  another  inquiry  was  in  Mr. 
Andrew's  aspect,  and  Evan's  calm,  sad  manner  answered  it. 

"  Yes,"  —  Mr.  Andrew  shook  his  head  dolefully  -^-  "  a 
splendid  little  chap !  a  rare  little  chap!  a — we  can't  help 
these  things.  Van !     They  will  happen.     Sit  down,  my  boy." 

Mr.  Andrew  again  interrogated  Evan  with  his  eyes. 

"My  father  is  dead,"  said  Evan. 

"  Yes ! "  Mr.  Andrew  nodded,  and  glanced  quickly  at 
the  ceiling,  as  if  to  make  sure  that  none  listened  overhead. 
"  My  parliamentary  duties  will  soon  be  over  for  the  season," 
he  added,  aloud ;  pursuing,  in  an  under  breath :  "  Going 
down  to-night.  Van  ?  " 

"  He  is  to  be  buried  to-morrow,"  said  Evan. 

"  Then,  of  course,  you  go.  Yes :  quite  right.  Love  your 
father  and  mother !  always  love  your  father  and  mother !  Old 
Tom  and  I  never  knew  ours.  Tom's  quite  well  —  same  as 
ever.  I'll,"  he  rang  the  bell,  "  have  my  chop  in  here  with 
you.  You  must  try  and  eat  a  bit.  Van.  Here  we  are,  and 
there  we  go.  Old  Tom's  wandering  for  one  of  his  weeks. 
You'll  see  him  some  day.  He  ain't  like  me.  No  dinner  to- 
day, I  suppose,  Charles  ?  " 

This  was  addressed  to  the  footman.  He  announced: 
"  Dinner  to-day  at  half -past  six,  as  usual,  sir,"  bowed,  and 
retired. 

Mr.  Andrew  pored  on  the  floor,  and  rubbed  his  hair  back 
on  his  head.     "  An  odd  world !  "  was  his  remark. 

Evan  lifted  up  his  face  to  sigh  :  "  I'm  almost  sick  of  it ! " 

"Damn  appearances!"  cried  Mr.  Andrew,  jumping  on 
his  legs. 

The  action  cooled  him. 

"  I'm  sorry  I  swore,"  he  said.  "  Bad  habit !  The  Major's 
here — you  know  that?"  and  he  assumed  the  Major's  voice, 
and  strutted  in  imitation  of  the  stalwart  marine.  "Major  — 
a — Strike!  of  the  Royal  Marines!  returned  from  China! 
covered  with  glory !  —  a  hero,  Van !     We  can't  expect  him 


THE  FAMILY  AND  THE  FUNERAL  46 

co  be  much  of  a  mourner.  And  we  shan't  have  him  to  dine 
with  us  to-day  —  that's  something."  He  sank  his  voice: 
"  I  hope  the  widow'll  bear  it." 

"  I  hope  to  God  my  mother  is  well !  "  Evan  groaned. 

"  That'll  do,"  said  Mr.  Andrew-    "  Don't  say  any  more." 

As  he  spoke,  he  clapped  Evan  kindly  on  the  back. 

A  message  was  brought  from  the  ladies,  requiring  Evan 
to  wait  on  them.     He  returned  after  some  minutes. 

"  How  do  you  think  Harriet's  looking  ? "  asked  Mr. 
Andrew.  And,  not  waiting  for  an  answer,  whispered,  "Are 
they  going  down  to  the  funeral,  my  boy  ?  " 

Evan's  brow  was  dark,  as  he  replied :  "  They  are  not 
decided." 

"Won't  Harriet  go?" 

"  She  is  not  going  —  she  thinks  not." 

"  And  the  Countess  —  Louisa's  up-stairs,  eh  ?  —  will  she 
go?" 

"  She  cannot  leave  the  Count  —  she  thinks  not." 

"Won't  Caroline  go?  Caroline  can  go.  She  —  he  —  I 
mean  —  Caroline  can  go  ?  " 

"The  Major  objects.     She  wishes  to." 

Mr.  Andrew  struck  out  his  arm,  and  uttered,  "  the  Major ! " 
—  a  compromise  for  a  loud  anathema.  But  the  compro- 
mise was  vain,  for  he  sinned  again  in  an  explosion  against 
appearances. 

"  I'm  a  brewer.  Van.  Do  you  think  I'm  ashamed  of  it  ? 
Not  while  I  brew  good  beer,  my  boy !  —  not  while  I  brew 
good  beer !  They  don't  think  worse  of  me  in  the  House  for 
it.  It  isn't  ungentlemanly  to  brew  good  beer.  Van.  But 
what's  the  use  of  talking  ?  " 

Mr.  Andrew  sat  down,  and  murmured,  "Poor  girl!  poor 
girl ! " 

The  allusion  was  to  his  wife ;  for  presently  he  said :  "  I 
can't  see  why  Harriet  can't  go.     What's  to  prevent  her  ?  " 

Evan  gazed  at  him  steadily.  Death's  levelling  influence 
was  in  Evan's  mind.     He  was  ready  to  say  why,  and  fully. 

Mr.  Andrew  arrested  him  with  a  sharp  "Never  mind! 
Harriet  does  as  she  likes.  I'm  accustomed  to  —  hem  !  — 
what  she  does  is  best,  after  all.  She  doesn't  interfere  with 
my  business,  nor  I  with  hers.     Man  and  wife." 

Pausing  a  moment  or  so,  Mr.  Andrew  intimated  that  they 


46  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

had  better  be  dressing  for  dinner.  With  his  hand  on  the 
door,  which  he  kept  closed,  he  said,  in  a  business-like  way, 
"You  know.  Van,  as  for  me,  I  should  be  very  willing  —  only 
too  happy  —  to  go  down  and  pay  all  the  respect  I  could." 
He  became  confused,  and  shot  his  head  from  side  to  side, 
looking  anywhere  but  at  Evan.  "Happy  now  and  to-mor- 
row, to  do  anything  in  my  power,  if  Harriet  —  follow  the 
funeral  —  one  of  the  family  —  anything  /  could  do :  but  — 
a — we'd  better  be  dressing  for  dinner."  And  out  the  enig- 
matic little  man  went. 

Evan  partly  divined  him  then.  But  at  dinner  his  behav- 
iour was  perplexing.  He  was  too  cheerful.  He  pledged 
the  Count.  He  would  have  the  Portuguese  for  this  and 
that,  and  make  Anglican  efforts  to  repeat  it,  and  laugh  at 
his  failures.  He  would  not  see  that  there  was  a  father 
dead.  At  a  table  of  actors,  Mr.  Andrew  overdid  his  part, 
and  was  the  worst.  His  wife  could  not  help  thinking  him 
a  heartless  little  man. 

The  poor  show  had  its  term.  The  ladies  fled  to  the  bou- 
doir sacred  to  grief.  Evan  was  whispered  that  he  was  to 
join  them  when  he  might,  without  seeming  mysterious  to 
the  Count.  Before  he  reached  them,  they  had  talked  tear- 
fully over  the  clothes  he  should  wear  at  Lymport,  agreeing 
that  his  present  foreign  apparel,  being  black,  would  be  suit- 
able, and  would  serve  almost  as  disguise,  to  the  inhabitants 
at  large ;  and  as  Evan  had  no  English  wear,  and  there  was 
no  time  to  procure  any  for  him,  that  was  well.  They 
arranged  exactly  how  long  he  should  stay  at  Lymport, 
whom  he  should  visit,  the  manner  he  should  adopt  toward 
the  different  inhabitants.  By  all  means  he  was  to  avoid  the 
approach  of  the  gentry.  For  hours  Evan,  in  a  trance,  half 
stupefied,  had  to  listen  to  the  Countess's  directions  how  he 
was  to  comport  himself  in  Lymport. 

"  Show  that  you  have  descended  among  them,  dear  Van, 
but  are  not  of  them.  Our  beautiful  noble  English  poet  ex- 
presses it  so.  You  have  come  to  pay  the  last  mortal  duties, 
which  they  will  respect,  if  they  are  not  brutes,  and  attempt 
no  familiarities.  Allow  none:  gently,  but  firmly.  Imitate 
Silva.  You  remember,  at  Doiia  Risbonda's  ball  ?  When  he 
met  the  Comte  de  Dartigues,  and  knew  he  was  to  be  in  dis- 
grace with  his  Court  on  the  morrow  ?    Oh !  the  exquisite 


THE  FAMILY   AND  THE  FUNERAL  47 

shade  of  difference  in  Silva's  behaviour  towards  the  Comte. 
So  finely,  delicately  perceptible  to  the  Comte,  and  not  a  soul 
saw  it  but  that  wretched  Frenchman  !  He  came  to  me : 
'  Madame,'  he  said,  '  is  a  question  permitted  ? '  I  replied, 
'  As  many  as  you  please,  M.  le  Comte,  but  no  answers  prom- 
ised.' He  said:  'May  I  ask  if  the  Courier  has  yet  come 
in  ? '  '  Nay,  M.  le  Comte,'  I  replied,  *  this  is  diplomacy.  In- 
quire of  me,  or  better,  give  me  an  opinion  on  the  new  glace 
silk  from  Paris.'  '  Madame,'  said  he,  bowing, '  I  hope  Paris 
may  send  me  aught  so  good,  or  that  I  shall  grace  half  so  well.' 
I  smiled,  'You  shall  not  be  single  in  your  hopes,  M.  le 
Comte.  The  gift  would  be  base  that  you  did  not  embellish.' 
He  lifted  his  hands,  French-fashion:  'Madame,  it  is  that 
I  have  received  the  gift.'  'Indeed!  M.  le  Comte.'  'Even 
now  from  the  Count  de  Saldar,  ycur  husband.'  I  looked 
most  innocently, '  From  my  husband,  M.  le  Comte  ? '  'From 
him,  Madame.  A  portrait.  An  Ambassador  without  his 
coat !  The  portrait  was  a  finished  performance.'  I  said : 
'  And  may  one  beg  the  permission  to  inspect  it  ? '  '  Mais,' 
said  he,  laughing :  '  were  it  you  alone,  it  would  be  a  privi- 
lege to  me.'  I  had  to  check  him.  '  Believe  me,  M.  le  Comte, 
that  when  /  look  upon  it,  my  praise  of  the  artist  will  be  ex- 
tinguished by  my  pity  for  the  subject.'  He  should  have 
stopped  there ;  but  you  cannot  have  the  last  word  with  a 
Frenchman  —  not  even  a  woman.  Fortunately  the  Queen 
just  then  made  her  entry  into  the  saloon,  and  his  mot  on  the 
charity  of  our  sex  was  lost.  We  bowed  mutually,  and  were 
separated."  (The  Countess  employed  her  handkerchief.) 
"  Yes,  dear  Van !  that  is  how  you  should  behave.  Imply 
things.  With  dearest  Mama,  of  course,  you  are  the  dutiful 
son.  Alas !  you  must  stand  for  son  and  daughters.  Mama 
has  so  much  sense !  She  will  understand  how  sadly  we  are 
placed.  But  in  a  week  I  will  come  to  her  for  a  day,  and 
bring  you  back." 

So  much  his  sister  Louisa.  His  sister  Harriet  offered  him 
her  house  for  a  home  in  London,  thence  to  project  his  new 
career.  His  sister  Caroline  sought  a  word  with  him  in 
private,  but  only  to  weep  bitterly  in  his  arms,  and  utter  a 
faint  moan  of  regret  at  marriages  in  general.  He  loved  this 
beautiful  creature  the  best  of  his  three  sisters  (partly,  it 
may  be,  because  he  despised  her  superior  officer),  and  tried 


48  EVAN  HAKRINGTON 

with  a  few  smothered  words  to  induce  her  to  accompany 
him  :  but  she  only  shook  her  fair  locks  and  moaned  afresh. 
Mr.  Andrew,  in  the  farewell  squeeze  of  the  hand  at  the 
street-door,  asked  him  if  he  wanted  anything.  He  nega- 
tived the  requirement  of  anything  whatever,  with  an  air  of 
careless  decision,  though  he  was  aware  that  his  purse  barely 
contained  more  than  would  take  him  the  distance,  but  the 
instincts  of  this  amateur  gentleman  were  very  fine  and  sensi- 
tive on  questions  of  money.  His  family  had  never  known 
him  beg  for  a  shilling,  or  admit  his  necessity  for  a  penny  : 
nor  could  he  be  made  to  accept  money  unless  it  was  thrust 
into  his  pocket.  Somehow  his  sisters  had  forgotten  this  pecu- 
liarity of  his.     Harriet  only  remembered  it  when  too  late. 

"  But  I  dare  say  Andrew  has  supplied  him,"  she  said. 

Andrew  being  interrogated,  informed  her  what  had  passed 
between  them. 

"  And  you  think  a  Harrington  would  confess  he  wanted 
money ! "  was  her  scornful  exclamation.  "  Evan  would 
walk  —  he  would  die  rather.  It  was  treating  him  like  a 
mendicant." 

Andrew  had  to  shrink  in  his  brewer's  skin. 

By  some  fatality  all  who  were  doomed  to  sit  and  listen  to 
the  Countess  de  Saldar,  were  sure  to  be  behindhand  in  an 
appointment. 

When  the  young  man  arrived  at  the  coach-office,  he  was 
politely  informed  that  the  vehicle,  in  which  a  seat  had  been 
secured  for  him,  was  in  close  alliance  with  time  and  tide,  and 
being  under  the  same  rigid  laws,  could  not  possibly  have 
waited  for  him,  albeit  it  had  stretched  a  point  to  the  extent  of 
a  pair  of  minutes,  at  the  urgent  solicitation  of  a  passenger. 

"  A  gentleman  who  speaks  so,  sir,"  said  a  volunteer  mimic 
of  the  office,  crowing  and  questioning  from  his  throat  in 
Goren's  manner.    "  Yok !  yok  !    That  -vvas  how  he  spoke,  sir." 

Evan  reddened,  for  it  brought  the  scene  on  board  the 
Jocasta  vividly  to  his  mind.  The  heavier  business  obliter- 
ated it.  He  took  counsel  with  the  clerks  of  the  office,  and 
eventually  the  volunteer  mimic  conducted  him  to  certain 
livery  stables,  where  Evan,  like  one  accustomed  to  com- 
mand, ordered  a  chariot  to  pursue  the  coach,  received  a 
touch  of  the  hat  for  a  lordly  fee,  and  was  soon  rolling  out 
of  London. 


MY  GENTLEMAN  ON  THE  BOAD  49 

CHAPTER  VI 

MT   GENTLEMAN   ON  THE   BOAD 

The  postillion  had  every  reason  to  believe  that  he  carried 
a  real  gentleman  behind  him ;  in  other  words,  a  purse  long 
and  liberal.  He  judged  by  all  the  points  he  knew  of :  a  firm 
voice,  a  brief  commanding  style,  an  apparent  indifference  to 
expense,  and  the  inexplicable  minor  characteristics,  such  as 
polished  boots,  and  a  striking  wristband,  and  so  forth,  which 
will  show  a  creature  accustomed  to  step  over  the  heads  of 
men.  He  had,  therefore,  no  particular  anxiety  to  part  com- 
pany, and  jogged  easily  on  the  white  highway,  beneath  a 
moon  that  walked  high  and  small  over  marble  clouds. 

Evan  reclined  in  the  chariot,  revolving  his  sensations.  In 
another  mood  he  would  have  called  them  thoughts,  perhaps, 
and  marvelled  at  their  immensity.  The  theme  was  Love 
and  Death.  One  might  have  supposed,  from  his  occasional 
mutterings  at  the  pace  regulated  by  the  postillion,  that  he 
was  burning  with  anxiety  to  catch  the  flying  coach.  He 
had  forgotten  it :  forgotten  that  he  was  giving  chase  to  any- 
thing. A  pair  of  wondering  feminine  eyes  pursued  him,  and 
made  him  fret  for  the  miles  to  throw  a  thicker  veil  between 
him  and  them.  The  serious  level  brows  of  Rose  haunted 
the  poor  youth ;  and  reflecting  whither  he  was  tending,  and 
to  what  sight,  he  had  shadowy  touches  of  the  holiness  there 
is  in  death;  from  which  came  a  conflict  between  the  imaged 
phantoms  of  his  father  and  of  Rose,  and  he  sided  against 
his  love  with  some  bitterness.  His  sisters,  weeping  for  their 
father  and  holding  aloof  from  his  ashes,  Evan  swept  from 
his  mind.  He  called  up  the  man  his  father  was :  the  kind- 
liness, the  readiness,  the  gallant  gaiety  of  the  great  Mel. 
Youths  are  fascinated  by  the  barbarian  virtues ;  and  to 
Evan,  under  present  influences,  his  father  was  a  pattern  of 
manhood.  He  asked  himself:  Was  it  infamous  to  earn 
one's  bread?  and  answered  it  very  strongly  in  his  father's 
favour.  The  great  Mel's  creditors  were  not  by  to  show  him 
another  feature  of  the  case. 

Hitherto,  in  passive  obedience  to  the  indoctrination  of  the 


50  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Countess,  Evan  had  looked  on  tailors  as  the  proscribed  race 
of  modern  society.  He  had  pitied  his  father  as  a  man 
superior  to  his  fate ;  but  despite  the  fitfully  honest  prompt- 
ings with  Rose  (tempting  to  him  because  of  the  wondrous 
chivalry  they  argued,  and  at  bottom  false  probably  as  the 
hypocrisy  they  affected  to  combat),  he  had  been  by  no  means 
sorry  that  the  world  saw  not  the  spot  on  himself.  Other 
sensations  beset  him  now.  Since  such  a  man  was  banned 
by  the  world,  which  was  to  be  despised  ? 

The  clear  result  of  Evan's  solitary  musing  was  to  cast  a 
sort  of  halo  over  Tailordom.  Death  stood  over  the  pale  dead 
man,  his  father,  and  dared  the  world  to  sneer  at  him.  By 
a  singular  caprice  of  fancy,  Evan  had  no  sooner  grasped  this 
image,  than  it  was  suggested  that  he  might  as  well  inspect 
his  purse,  and  see  how  much  money  he  was  master  of. 

Are  you  impatient  with  this  young  man  ?  He  has  little 
character  for  the  moment.  Most  youths  are  like  Pope's 
women ;  they  have  no  character  at  all.  And  indeed  a  char- 
acter that  does  not  wait  for  circumstances  to  shape  it,  is  of 
small  worth  in  the  race  that  must  be  run.  To  be  set  too 
early,  is  to  take  the  work  out  of  the  hands  of  the  Sculptor 
who  fashions  men.  Happily  a  youth  is  always  at  school, 
and  if  he  was  shut  up  and  without  mark  two  or  three  hours 
ago,  he  will  have  something  to  show  you  now :  as  I  have 
seen  blooming  searflowers  and  other  graduated  organisms, 
when  left  undisturbed  to  their  own  action.  Where  the 
Fates  have  designed  that  he  shall  present  his  figure  in  a 
story,  this  is  sure  to  happen. 

To  the  postillion  Evan  was  indebted  for  one  of  his  first 
lessons. 

About  an  hour  after  midnight  pastoral  stillness  and  the 
moon  begat  in  the  postillion  desire  for  a  pipe.  Daylight 
prohibits  the  dream  of  it  to  mounted  postillions.  At  night 
the  question  is  more  human,  and  allows  appeal.  The  moon 
smiles  assentingly,  and  smokers  know  that  she  really  lends 
herself  to  the  enjoyment  of  tobacco.  The  postillion  could 
remember  gentlemen  who  did  not  object:  who  had  even 
given  him  cigars.  Turning  round  to  see  if  haply  the  pres- 
ent inmate  of  the  chariot  might  be  smoking,  he  observed  a 
head  extended  from  the  window. 

"How  far  are  we?"  was  inquired. 


MY   GENTLEMAN   ON   THE  ROAD  61 

The  postillion  numbered  the  milestones  passed. 

"Do  you  see  anything  of  the  coach?" 

"Can't  say  as  I  do,  sir." 

He  was  commanded  to  stop.     Evan  jumped  out. 

"I  don't  think  I'll  take  you  any  farther,"  he  said. 

The  postillion  laughed  to  scorn  the  notion  of  his  caring 
how  far  he  went.  With  a  pipe  in  his  mouth,  he  insinuat- 
ingly remarked,  he  could  jog  on  all  night,  and  throw  sleep 
to  the  dogs.  Fresh  horses  at  Hillford;  fresh  at  Fallow- 
field:  and  the  gentleman  himself  would  reach  Lymport 
fresh  in  the  morning. 

"No,  no;  I  won't  take  you  any  farther,"  Evan  repeated. 

"But  what  do  it  matter,  sir?"  urged  the  postillion. 

"  I'd  rather  go  on  as  I  am.  I  —  a  —  made  no  arrangement 
to  take  you  the  whole  way." 

"  Oh !  "  cried  the  postillion,  "  don't  you  go  troublin'  your- 
self about  that,  sir.  Master  knows  it's  touch-and-go  about 
catchin'  the  coach.     I'm  all  right." 

So  infatuated  was  the  fellow  in  the  belief  that  he  was 
dealing  with  a  perfect  gentleman  —  an  easy  pocket ! 

Now  you  would  not  suppose  that  one  who  presumes  he  has 
sufficient,  would  find  a  difficulty  in  asking  how  much  he  has 
to  pay.    With  an  effort,  indiif erently  masked,  Evan  blurted : 

"By  the  way,  tell  me  —  how  much  —  what  is  the  charge 
for  the  distance  we've  come?" 

There  are  gentlemen-screws:  there  are  conscientious 
gentlemen.  They  calculate,  and  remonstrating  or  not, 
they  pay.  The  postillion, would  rather  have  had  to  do 
with  the  gentleman  royal,  who  is  above  base  computation; 
but  he  knew  the  humanity  in  the  class  he  served,  and  with 
his  conception  of  Evan  only  partially  dimmed,  he  remarked : 

"Oh-h-h!  that  won't  hurt  you,  sir.  Jump  along  in, — 
settle  that  by-and-by." 

But  when  my  gentleman  stood  fast,  and  renewed  the 
demand  to  know  the  exact  charge  for  the  distance  already 
traversed,  the  postillion  dismounted,  glanced  him  over,  and 
speculated  with  his  fingers  tipping  up  his  hat.  Meantime 
Evan  drew  out  his  purse,  a  long  one,  certainly,  but  limp. 
Out  of  this  drowned-looking  wretch  the  last  spark  of  life 
was  taken  by  the  sum  the  postillion  ventured  to  name ;  and 
if  paying  your  utmost  farthing  without  examination  of  the 


52  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

charge,  and  cneerfully  stepping  out  to  walk  fifty  miles, 
penniless,  constituted  a  postillion's  gentleman,  Evan  would 
have  passed  the  test.  The  sight  of  poverty,  however,  pro- 
vokes familiar  feelings  in  poor  men,  if  you  have  not  had 
occasion  to  show  them  you  possess  particular  qualities. 
The  postillion's  eye  was  more  on  the  purse  than  on  the 
sum  it  surrendered. 

"  There,"  said  Evan,  "  I  shall  walk.  Good  night."  And 
he  flung  his  cloak  to  step  forward. 

"  Stop  a  bit,  sir !  "  arrested  him. 

The  postillion  rallied  up  sideways,  with  an  assumption 
of  genial  respect.  "  I  didn't  calc'late  myself  in  that  there 
amount." 

Were  these  words,  think  you,  of  a  character  to  strike  a 
young  man  hard  on  the  breast,  send  the  blood  to  his  head, 
and  set  up  in  his  heart  a  derisive  chorus?  My  gentleman 
could  pay  his  money,  and  keep  his  footing  gallantly;  but 
to  be  asked  for  a  penny  beyond  what  he  possessed;  to  be 
seen  beggared,  and  to  be  claimed  a  debtor  —  alack !  Pride 
was  the  one  developed  faculty  of  Evan's  nature.  The 
Fates  who  mould  us,  always  work  from  the  main-spring. 
I  will  not  say  that  the  postillion  stripped  off  the  mask  for 
him,  at  that  instant  completely;  but  he  gave  him  the  first 
true  glimpse  of  his  condition.  From  the  vague  sense  of 
being  an  impostor,  Evan  awoke  to  the  clear  fact  that  he 
was  likewise  a  fool. 

It  was  impossible  for  him  to  deny  the  man's  claim,  and 
he  would  not  have  done  it,  if  he  could.  Acceding  tacitly, 
he  squeezed  the  ends  of  his  purse  in  his  pocket,  and  with 
a  "  Let  me  see,"  tried  his  waistcoat.  Not  too  impetuously; 
for  he  was  careful  of  betraying  the  horrid  emptiness  till  he 
was  certain  that  the  powers  who  wait  on  gentlemen  had 
utterly  forsaken  him.  They  had  not.  He  discovered  a 
small  coin,  under  ordinary  circumstances  not  contemptible ; 
but  he  did  not  stay  to  reflect,  and  was  guilty  of  the  error 
of  offering  it  to  the  postillion. 

The  latter  peered  at  it  in  the  centre  of  his  palm;  gazed 
queerly  in  the  gentleman's  face,  and  then  lifting  the  spit 
of  silver  for  the  disdain  of  his  mistress,  the  moon,  he  drew 
a  long  breath  of  regret  at  the  original  mistake  he  had  com- 
mitted, and  said: 


MY  GENTLEMAN  ON  THE  KOAB  63 

"That's  what  you're  goin'  to  give  me  for  my  night's 
work?" 

The  powers  who  wait  on  gentlemen  had  only  helped  the 
pretending  youth  to  try  him.  A  rejection  of  the  demand 
would  have  been  infinitely  wiser  and  better  than  this  paltry 
compromise.  The  postillion  would  have  fought  it:  he 
would  not  have  despised  his  fare. 

How  much  it  cost  the  poor  pretender  to  reply,  "  It's  the 
last  farthing  I  have,  my  man,"  the  postillion  could  not 
know. 

"A  scabby  sixpence?"  The  postillion  continued  his 
cfuestion. 

"You  heard  what  I  said,"  Evan  remarked. 

The  postillion  drew  another  deep  breath,  and  holding  out 
the  coin  at  arm's  length: 

"Well,  sir!"  he  observed,  as  one  whom  mental  conflict 
has  brought  to  the  philosophy  of  the  case,  "now,  was  we 
to  change  places,  I  couldn't  a'  done  it !  I  couldn't  a'  done 
it ! "  he  reiterated,  pausing  emphatically. 

"Take  it,  sir!"  he  magnanimously  resumed;  "take  it! 
You  rides  when  you  can,  and  you  walks  when  you  must. 
Lord  forbid  I  should  rob  such  a  gentleman  as  you ! " 

One  who  feels  a  death,  is  for  the  hour  lifted  above  the 
satire  of  postillions.  A  good  genius  prompted  Evan  to 
avoid  the  silly  squabble  that  might  have  ensued  and  made 
him  ridiculous.  He  took  the  money,  quietly  saying, 
"Thank  you." 

Not  to  lose  his  vantage,  the  postillion,  though  a  little 
staggered  by  the  move,  rejoined:  "Don't  mention  it." 

Evan  then  said :  "  Good  night,  my  man.  I  won't  wish, 
for  your  sake,  that  we  changed  places.  You  would  have  to 
walk  fifty  miles  to  be  in  time  for  your  father's  funeral. 
Good  night." 

"  You  are  it  —  to  look  at  ! "  was  the  postillion's  com- 
ment, seeing  my  gentleman  depart  with  great  strides.  He 
did  not  speak  offensively;  rather,  it  seemed,  to  appease  his 
conscience  for  the  original  mistake  he  had  committed,  for 
subsequently  came,  "My  oath  on  it,  I  don't  get  took  in 
again  by  a  squash  hat  in  a  hurry!  " 

Unaware  of  the  ban  he  had,  by  a  sixpenny  stamp,  put 
upon  an  unoffending  class,  Evan  went  a-head,  hearing  the 


64  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

wheels  of  the  chariot  still  dragging  the  road  in  his  rear. 
The  postillion  was  in  a  dissatisfied  state  of  mind.  He  had 
asked  and  received  more  than  his  due.  But  in  the  matter 
of  his  sweet  self,  he  had  been  choused,  as  he  termed  it. 
And  my  gentleman  had  baffled  him,  he  could  not  quite  tell 
how;  but  he  had  been  got  the  better  of;  his  sarcasms  had 
not  stuck,  and  returned  to  rankle  in  the  bosom  of  their 
author.  As  a  Jew,  therefore,  may  eye  an  ere  while  bonds- 
man who  has  paid  the  bill,  but  stands  out  against  excess  of 
interest  on  legal  grounds,  the  postillion  regarded  Evan,  of 
whom  he  was  now  abreast,  eager  for  a  controversy. 

"Fine  night,"  said  the  postillion,  to  begin,  and  was  an- 
swered by  a  short  assent.  "  Lateish  for  a  poor  man  to  be 
out  —  don't  you  think  sir,  eh  ?  " 

"  /  ought  to  think  so,"  said  Evan,  mastering  the  shrewd 
unpleasantness  he  felt  in  the  colloquy  forced  on  him. 

"Oh,  you!  you're  a  gentleman!"  the  postillion  ejacu- 
lated. 

"  You  see  I  have  no  money." 

"Feelit,  too,  sir." 

"  I  am  sorry  you  should  be  the  victim." 

"  Victim ! "  the  postillion  seized  on  an  objectionable  word. 
"I  ain't  no  victim,  unless  you  was  up  to  a  joke  with  me,  sir, 
just  now.     Was  that  the  game  ?  " 

Evan  informed  him  that  he  never  played  jokes  with 
money,  or  on  men. 

"  'Cause  it  looks  like  it,  sir,  to  go  to  offer  a  poor  chap 
sixpence."  The  postillion  laughed  hollow  from  the  end  of 
his  lungs.  "  Sixpence  for  a  night's  work !  It  is  a  joke,  if 
you  don't  mean  it  for  one.  Why,  do  you  know,  sir,  I  could 
go  —  there,  I  don't  care  where  it  is !  —  I  could  go  before  any 
magistrate  livin',  and  he'd  make  ye  pay.  It's  a  charge,  as 
custom  is,  and  he'd  make  ye  pay.  Or  p'rhaps  you're  a  goin' 
on  my  generosity,  and  '11  say,  he  gev  back  that  sixpence ! 
Well !  I  shouldn't  a'  thought  a  gentleman  'd  make  that  his 
defence  before  a  magistrate.  But  there,  my  man !  if  it 
makes  ye  happy,  keep  it.  But  you  take  my  advice,  sir. 
When  you  hires  a  chariot,  see  you've  got  the  shiners.  And 
don't  you  go  never  again  offerin'  a  sixpence  to  a  poor  man 
for  a  night's  work.  They  don't  like  it.  It  hurts  their  feel- 
in's.   Don't  you  forget  that,  sir.   Lay  that  up  in  your  mind." 


MY   GENTLEMAN   ON   THE   ROAD  55 

Now  the  postillion  having  thus  relieved  himself,  jeeringly 
asked  permission  to  smoke  a  pipe.  To  which  Evan  said, 
"Pray,  smoke,  if  it  pleases  you."  And  the  postillion, 
hardly  mollified,  added,  "The  baccy's  paid  for,"  and 
smoked. 

As  will  sometimes  happen,  the  feelings  of  the  man  who 
had  spoken  out  and  behaved  doubtfully,  grew  gentle  and 
Christian,  whereas  those  of  the  man  whose  bearing  under 
the  trial  had  been  irreproachable  were  much  the  reverse. 
The  postillion  smoked  —  he  was  a  lord  on  his  horse;  he 
beheld  my  gentleman  trudging  in  the  dust.  Awhile  he 
enjoyed  the  contrast,  dividing  his  attention  between  the 
footfarer  and  moon.  To  have  had  the  last  word  is  always 
a  great  thing;  and  to  have  given  my  gentleman  a  lecture, 
because  he  shunned  a  dispute,  also  counts.  And  then  there 
was  the  poor  young  fellow  trudging  to  his  father's  funeral ! 
The  postillion  chose  to  remember  that  now.  In  reality,  he 
allowed,  he  had  not  very  much  to  complain  of,  and  my 
gentleman's  courteous  avoidance  of  provocation  (the  appar- 
ent fact  that  he,  the  postillion,  had  humbled  him  and  got 
the  better  of  him,  equally,  it  may  be),  acted  on  his  fine 
English  spirit.  I  should  not  like  to  leave  out  the  tobacco 
in  this  good  change  that  was  wrought  in  him.  However, 
he  presently  astonished  Evan  by  pulling  up  his  horses,  and 
crying  that  he  was  on  his  way  to  Hillford  to  bait,  and  saw 
no  reason  why  he  should  not  take  a  lift  that  part  of  the 
road,  at  all  events.  Evan  thanked  him  briefly,  but  declined, 
and  paced  on  with  his  head  bent. 

"  It  won't  cost  you  nothing  —  not  a  sixpence ! "  the  pos- 
tillion sang  out,  pursuing  him.  "  Come,  sir !  be  a  man !  I 
ain't  a  hintin'  at  anything — jump  in." 

Evan  again  declined,  and  looked  out  for  a  side  path  to 
escape  the  fellow,  whose  bounty  was  worse  to  him  than  his 
abuse,  and  whose  mention  of  the  sixpence  was  unlucky. 

"  Dash  it ! "  cried  the  postillion,  "  you're  going  down  to  a 
funeral — I  think  you  said  your  father's,  sir  —  you  may  as 
well  try  and  get  there  respectable  —  as  far  as  /  go.  It's 
one  to  me  whether  you're  in  or  out ;  the  horses  won't  feel 
it,  and  I  do  wish  you'd  take  a  lift  and  welcome.  It's  be- 
cause you're  too  much  of  a.  gentleman  to  be  beholden  to  si 
poor  man,  I  suppose ! " 


56  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Evan's  young  pride  may  have  had  a  little  of  that  base 
mixture  in  it,  and  certainly  he  would  have  preferred  that 
the  invitation  had  not  been  made  to  him ;  but  he  was  capa- 
ble of  appreciating  what  the  rejection  of  a  piece  of  friend- 
liness involved,  and  as  he  saw  that  the  man  was  sincere,  he 
did  violence  to  himself,  and  said:  "Very  well;  then  I'll 
jump  in." 

The  postillion  was  off  his  horse  in  a  twinkling,  and  trotted 
his  bandy  legs  to  undo  the  door,  as  to  a  gentleman  who  paid. 
This  act  of  service  Evan  valued. 

"  Suppose  I  were  to  ask  you  to  take  the  sixpence  now  ? '' 
he  said,  turning  round,  with  one  foot  on  the  step. 

"Well,  sir,"  the  postillion  sent  his  hat  aside  to  answer. 
"I  don't  want  it — I'd  rather  not  have  it;  but  there!  I'll 
take  it  —  dash  the  sixpence!  and  we'll  cry  quits." 

Evan,  surprised  and  pleased  with  him,  dropped  the  bit  of 
money  in  his  hand,  saying :  "  It  will  fill  a  pipe  for  you. 
While  you're  smoking  it,  think  of  me  as  in  your  debt. 
You're  the  only  man  I  ever  owed  a  penny  to." 

The  postillion  put  it  in  a  side  pocket  apart,  and  observed : 
"  A  sixpence  kindly  meant  is  worth  any  crown-piece  that's 
grudged  —  that  it  is !     In  you  jump,  sir.     It's  a  jolly  night !  " 

Thus  may  one,  not  a  conscious  sage,  play  the  right  tune 
on  this  human  nature  of  ours :  by  forbearance,  put  it  in  the 
wrong  ;  and  then,  by  not  refusing  the  burden  of  an  obliga- 
tion, confer  something  better.  The  instrument  is  simpler 
than  we  are  taught  to  fancy.  But  it  was  doubtless  owing 
to  a  strong  emotion  in  his  soul,  as  well  as  to  the  stuff  he 
was  made  of,  that  the  youth  behaved  as  he  did.  We  are 
now  and  then  above  our  own  actions;  seldom  on  a  level 
with  them.  Evan,  I  dare  say,  was  long  in  learning  to  draw 
any  gratification  from  the  fact  that  he  had  achieved  with- 
out money  the  unparalleled  conquest  of  a  man.  Perhaps  he 
never  knew  what  immediate  influence  on  his  fortune  this 
episode  effected. 

At  Hillford  they  went  their  different  ways.  The  postil- 
lion wished  him  good  speed,  and  Evan  shook  his  hand.  He 
did  so  rather  abruptly,  for  the  postillion  was  fumbling  at  his 
pocket,  and  evidently  rounding  about  a  proposal  in  his  mind. 

My  gentleman  has  now  the  road  to  himself.  Money  is 
the  clothing  of  a  gentleman :  he  may  wear  it  well  or  ill. 


MOTHEK   AND   SON  67 

Some,  you  will  mark,  carry  great  quantities  of  it  grace- 
fully :  some,  with  a  stinted  supply,  present  a  decent  appear- 
ance :  very  few,  I  imagine,  will  bear  inspection,  who  are 
absolutely  stripped  of  it.  All,  save  the  shameless,  are  toil- 
ing to  escape  that  trial.  My  gentleman,  treading  the  white 
highway  across  the  solitary  heaths,  that  swell  far  and  wide 
to  the  moon,  is,  by  the  postillion,  who  has  seen  him,  pro- 
nounced no  sham.  Nor  do  I  think  the  opinion  of  any  man 
worthless,  who  has  had  the  postillion's  authority  for  speak- 
ing. But  it  is,  I  am  told,  a  finer  test  to  embellish  much 
gentleman-apparel,  than  to  walk  with  dignity  totally  un- 
adorned. This  simply  tries  the  soundness  of  our  faculties : 
that  tempts  them  in  erratic  directions.  It  is  the  difference 
between  active  and  passive  excellence. 

As  there  is  hardly  any  situation,  however,  so  interesting 
to  reflect  upon  as  that  of  a  man  without  a  penny  in  his 
pocket,  and  a  gizzard  full  of  pride,  we  will  leave  Mr.  Evan 
Harrington  to  what  fresh  adventures  may  befall  him,  walk- 
ing toward  the  funeral  plumes  of  the  firs,  under  the  soft 
midsummer  flush,  westward,  where  his  father  lies. 


CHAPTER  VII 

MOTHEK   AND   SON 


Eake  as  epic  song  is  the  man  who  is  thorough  in  what 
he  does.  And  happily  so;  for  in  life  he  subjugates  us, 
and  he  makes  us  bondsmen  to  his  ashes.  It  was  in  the 
order  of  things  that  the  great  Mel  should  be  borne  to  his 
final  resting  place  by  a  troop  of  creditors.  You  have  seen 
(since  the  occasion  demands  a  pompous  simile)  clouds  that 
all  day  cling  about  the  sun,  and,  in  seeking  to  obscure  him, 
are  compelled  to  blaze  in  his  livery :  at  fall  of  night  they 
break  from  him  illumined,  hang  mournfully  above  him,  and 
wear  his  natural  glories  long  after  he  is  gone.  Thus,  then, 
these  worthy  fellows,  faithful  to  him  to  the  dust,  fulfilled 
Mel's  triumphant  passage  amongst  them,  and  closed  his 
career. 


58  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

To  regale  them  when  they  returned,  Mrs.  Mel,  whose  mind 
was  not  intent  on  greatness,  was  occupied  in  spreading  meat 
and  wine.  Mrs.  Fiske  assisted  her,  as  well  as  she  could, 
seeing  that  one  hand  was  entirely  engaged  by  her  handker- 
chief. She  had  already  stumbled,  and  dropped  a  glass, 
which  had  brought  on  her  sharp  condemnation  from  her 
aunt,  who  bade  her  sit  down,  or  go  up-stairs  to  have  her  cry 
out,  and  then  return  to  be  serviceable. 

«  Oh !  I  can't  help  it ! "  sobbed  Mrs.  Fiske.  "  That  he 
should  be  carried  away,  and  none  of  his  children  to  see  him 
the  last  time !  I  can  understand  Louisa  —  and  Harriet,  too, 
perhaps !  But  why  could  not  Caroline  ?  And  that  they 
should  be  too  fine  ladies  to  let  their  brother  come  and  bury 
his  father.     Oh !  it  does  seem " 

Mrs.  Fiske  fell  into  a  chair,  and  surrendered  to  grief. 

"  Where  is  the  cold  tongue  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Mel  to  Sally,  the 
maid,  in  a  brief  under-voice. 

"  Please  mum,  Jacko ! " 

"  He  must  be  whipped.     You  are  a  careless  slut." 

"  Please,  I  can't  think  of  everybody  and  everything,  and 
poor  master " 

Sally  plumped  on  a  seat,  and  took  sanctuary  under  her 
apron.     Mrs.  Mel  glanced  at  the  pair,  continuing  her  labour. 

"  Oh,  aunt,  aunt ! "  cried  Mrs.  Fiske,  "  why  didn't  you  put 
it  off  for  another  day,  to  give  Evan  a  chance  ?  " 

"  Master'd  have  kept  another  two  days,  he  would ! "  whim- 
pered Sally. 

"  Oh,  aunt !  to  think ! "  cried  Mrs.  Fiske. 

"  And  his  coffin  not  bearin'  of  his  spurs ! "  whimpered 
Sally. 

Mrs.  Mel  interrupted  them  by  commanding  Sally  to  go  to 
the  drawing-room,  and  ask  a  lady  there,  of  the  name  of  Mrs. 
Wishaw,  whether  she  would  like  to  have  some  lunch  sent  up 
to  her.  Mrs.  Fiske  was  requested  to  put  towels  in  Evan's 
bedroom. 

"  Yes,  aunt,  if  you're  not  infatuated !  "  said  Mrs.  Fiske,  as 
she  prepared  to  obey;  while  Sally,  seeing  that  her  public 
exhibition  of  sorrow  and  sympathy  could  be  indulged  but  an 
instant  longer,  unwound  herself  for  a  violent  paroxysm, 
blurting  between  stops : 

**  If  he'd  ony've  gone  to  his  last  bed  comfortable !  .  . 


MOTHER  AND   SON  69 

If  he'd  ony've  been  that  decent  as  not  for  to  go  to  his  last 
bed  with  his  clothes  on !  ...  If  he'd  ony've  had  a  comfort- 
able sheet !  ...  It  makes  a  woman  feel  cold  to  think  of 
him  full  dressed  there,  as  if  he  was  goin'  to  be  a  soldier  on 
the  Day  o'  Judgement !  " 

To  let  people  speak  was  a  maxim  of  Mrs.  Mel's,  and  a 
wise  one  for  any  form  of  society  when  emotions  are  very 
much  on  the  surface.  She  continued  her  arrangements 
quietly,  and,  having  counted  the  number  of  plates  and 
glasses,  and  told  off  the  guests  on  her  fingers,  she  sat  down 
to  await  them. 

The  first  who  entered  the  room  was  her  son. 

"  You  have  come,"  said  Mrs.  Mel,  flushing  slightly,  but 
otherwise  outwardly  calm. 

"You  didn't  suppose  I  should  stay  away  from  you, 
mother  ?  " 

Evan  kissed  her  cheek. 

"  I  knew  you  would  not." 

Mrs.  Mel  examined  him  with  those  eyes  of  hers  that  com- 
passed objects  in  a  single  glance.  She  drew  her  finger  on 
each  side  of  her  upper  lip,  and  half  smUed,  saying : 

"  That  won't  do  here." 

"  What  ?  "  asked  Evan,  and  proceeded  immediately  to 
make  inquiries  about  her  health,  which  she  satisfied  with  a  nod. 

"  You  saw  him  lowered,  Van  ?  " 

"Yes,  mother." 

"  Then  go  and  wash  yourself,  for  you  are  dirty,  and  then 
come  and  take  your  place  at  the  head  of  the  table." 

"  Must  I  sit  here,  mother  ?  " 

"Without  a  doubt  you  must.  You  know  your  room. 
Quick ! " 

In  this  manner  their  first  interview  passed. 
.    Mrs.  Fiske  rushed  in  to  exclaim : 

"  So,  you  were  right,  aunt  —  he  has  come.  I  met  him  on 
the  stairs.  Oh !  how  like  dear  uncle  Mel  he  looks,  in  the 
militia,  with  that  moustache.  I  just  remember  him  as  a 
child ;  and,  oh,  what  a  gentleman  he  is ! " 

At  the  end  of  the  sentence  Mrs.  Mel's  face  suddenly 
darkened :  she  said,  in  a  deep  voice : 

"  Don't  dare  to  talk  that  nonsense  before  him,  Ann." 

Mrs.  Fiske  looked  astonished. 


60  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

"What  have  I  done,  aunt  ?" 

"  Ue  shan't  be  ruined  by  a  parcel  of  fools,"  said  Mrs.  Mel. 
"  There,  go !     Women  have  no  place  here." 

"  How  the  wretches  can  force  themselves  to  touch  a  morsel, 
after  this  morning ! "  Mrs.  Fiske  exclaimed,  glancing  at  the 
table. 

"  Men  must  eat,"  said  Mrs.  Mel. 

The  mourners  were  heard  gathering  outside  the  door. 
Mrs.  Fiske  escaped  into  the  kitchen.  Mrs.  Mel  admitted 
them  into  the  parlour,  bowing  much  above  the  level  of  many 
of  the  heads  that  passed  her. 

Assembled  were  Messrs.  Barnes,  Kilne,  and  Grossby,  whom 
we  know ;  Mr.  Doubleday,  the  ironmonger ;  Mr.  Joyce,  the 
grocer ;  Mr.  Perkins,  commonly  called  Lawyer  Perkins ;  Mr. 
Welbeck,  the  pier-master  of  Lymport ;  Bartholomew  Fiske ; 
Mr.  Coxwell,  a  Fallowfield  maltster,  brewer,  and  farmer; 
creditors  of  various  dimensions,  all  of  them.  Mr.  Goren 
coming  last,  behind  his  spectacles. 

"  My  son  will  be  with  you  directly,  to  preside,"  said  Mrs. 
Mel.  "  Accept  my  thanks  for  the  respect  you  have  shown 
my  husband.     I  wish  you  good  morning." 

"  Morning,  ma'am,"  answered  several  voices,  and  Mrs.  Mel 
retired. 

The  mourners  then  set  to  work  to  relieve  their  hats  of  the 
appendages  of  crape.  An  undertaker's  man  took  possession 
of  the  long  black  cloaks.   The  gloves  were  generally  pocketed. 

"That's  my  second  black  pair  this  year,"  said  Joyce. 
"  They'll  last  a  time  to  come.  I  don't  need  to  buy  gloves 
while  neighbours  pop  off." 

"  Undertakers'  gloves  seem  to  me  as  if  they're  made  for 
mutton  fists,"  remarked  Welbeck ;  upon  which  Kilne  nudged 
Barnes,  the  butcher,  with  a  sharp  "  Aha ! "  and  Barnes 
observed : 

"  Oh !  I  never  wear  'em  —  they  does  for  my  boys  on 
Sundays.     I  smoke  a  pipe  at  home." 

The  Fallowfield  farmer  held  his  length  of  crape  aloft  and 
inquired :  "  What  shall  do  with  this  ?  " 

"  Oh,  you  keep  it,"  said  one  or  two. 

Coxwell  rubbed  his  chin.    "  Don't  like  to  rob  the  widder." 

"  Wliat's  left  goes  to  the  undertaker  ?  "  asked  Grossby. 

"To  be  sure,"  said  Barnes;   and  Kilne  added:    "It's  a 


MOTHEE  AND  SON  61 

job : "  Lavryer  Perkins  ejaculating  confidently,  "  Perquisites 
of  office,  gentlemen ;  perquisites  of  office ! "  which  settled 
the  dispute  and  appeased  every  conscience. 

A  survey  of  the  table  ensued.  The  mourners  felt  hunger, 
or  else  thirst ;  but  had  not,  it  appeared,  amalgamated  the 
two  appetites  as  yet.  Thirst  was  the  predominant  declarar 
tion ;  and  Grossby,  after  an  examination  of  the  decanters, 
unctuously  deduced  the  fact,  which  he  announced,  that  port 
and  sherry  were  present. 

"  Try  the  port,"  said  Kilne. 

"  Good  ?  "  Barnes  inquired. 

A  very  intelligent  "  I  ought  to  know,"  with  a  reserve  of 
regret  at  the  extension  of  his  intimacy  with  the  particular 
vintage  under  that  roof,  was  winked  by  Kilne. 

Lawyer  Perkins  touched  the  arm  of  a  mourner  about  to 
be  experimental  on  Kilne's  port : 

"I  think  we  had  better  wait  till  young  Mr.  Harrington 
takes  the  table,  don't  you  see  ?  " 

"  Yes,  —  ah ! "  croaked  Goren.  "  The  head  of  the  family, 
as  the  saying  goes  ! " 

"I  suppose  we  shan't  go  into  business  to-day?"  Joyce 
carelessly  observed. 

Lawyer  Perkins  answered: 

"No.  You  can't  expect  it.  Mr.  Harrington  has  led  me 
to  anticipate  that  he  will  appoint  a  day.     Don't  you  see  ?  " 

"  Oh !  I  see,"  returned  Joyce.  "  I  ain't  in  such  a  huny. 
What's  he  doing  ?  " 

Doubleday,  whose  propensities  were  waggish,  suggested 
"  shaving,"  but  half  ashamed  of  it,  since  the  joke  missed, 
fell  to  as  if  he  were  soaping  his  face,  and  had  some  trouble 
to  contract  his  jaw. 

The  delay  in  Evan's  attendance  on  the  guests  of  the  house 
was  caused  by  the  fact  that  Mrs.  Mel  had  lain  in  wait  for 
him  descending,  to  warn  him  that  he  must  treat  them  with 
no  supercilious  civility,  and  to  tell  him  partly  the  reason 
why.  On  hearing  the  potential  relations  in  which  they 
stood  toward  the  estate  of  his  father,  Evan  hastily  and  with 
the  assurance  of  a  son  of  fortune,  said  they  should  be  paid. 

"  That's  what  they  would  like  to  hear,"  said  Mrs.  Mel. 
"You  may  just  mention  it  when  they're  going  to  leave.  Say 
you  will  fix  a  day  to  meet  them." 


62  EVAN  HAKRINGTON 

"  Every  farthing !  "  pursued  Evan,  on  whom  the  tidings 
were  beginning  to  operate.  "What!  debts?  my  poor 
father!" 

"  And  a  thumping  sum,  Van.  You  will  open  your  eyes 
wider." 

"  But  it  shall  be  paid,  mother,  —  it  shall  be  paid.  Debts  ? 
I  hate  them.     I'd  slave  night  and  day  to  pay  them." 

Mrs.  Mel  spoke  in  a  more  positive  tense :  "  And  so  will  I, 
Van.     Now,  go." 

It  mattered  little  to  her  what  sort  of  effect  on  his  de- 
meanour  her  revelation  produced,  so  long  as  the  resolve  she 
sought  to  bring  him  to  was  nailed  in  his  mind ;  and  she  was 
a  woman  to  knock  and  knock  again,  till  it  was  firmly  fixed 
there.  With  a  strong  purpose,  and  no  plans,  there  were  few 
who  could  resist  what,  in  her  circle,  she  willed ;  not  even  a 
youth  who  would  gaily  have  marched  to  the  scaffold  rather 
than  stand  behind  a  counter.  A  purpose  wedded  to  plans 
may  easily  suffer  shipwreck ;  but  an  unfettered  purpose  that 
moulds  circumstances  as  they  arise,  masters  us,  and  is  terri- 
ble. Character  melts  to  it,  like  metal  in  the  steady  furnace. 
The  projector  of  plots  is  but  a  miserable  gambler  and  votary 
of  chances.  Of  a  far  higher  quality  is  the  will  that  can 
subdue  itself  to  wait,  and  lay  no  petty  traps  for  opportunity. 
Poets  may  fable  of  such  a  will,  that  it  makes  the  very 
heavens  conform  to  it ;  or,  I  may  add,  what  is  almost  equal 
thereto,  one  who  wovdd  be  a  gentleman,  to  consent  to  be  a 
tailor.  The  only  person  who  ever  held  in  his  course  against 
Mrs.  Mel,  was  Mel, — her  husband;  but,  with  him,  she  was 
under  the  physical  fascination  of  her  youth,  and  it  never 
left  her.  In  her  heart  she  barely  blamed  him.  What  he 
did,  she  took  among  other  inevitable  matters. 

The  door  closed  upon  Evan,  and  waiting  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs  a  minute  to  hear  how  he  was  received,  Mrs.  Mel  went 
to  the  kitchen  and  called  the  name  of  Dandy,  which  brought 
out  an  ill-built,  low-browed,  small  man,  in  a  baggy  suit  of 
black,  who  hopped  up  to  her  with  a  surly  salute.  Dandy 
was  a  bird  Mrs.  Mel  had  herself  brought  down,  and  she  had 
for  him  something  of  a  sportsman's  regard  for  his  victim. 
Dandy  was  the  cleaner  of  boots  and  runner  of  errands  in  the 
household  of  Melchisedec,  having  originally  entered  it  on  a 
dark  night  by  the  cellar.     Mrs.  Mel,  on  that  occasion,  was 


MOTHER  AND  SON  68 

sleeping  in  her  dressing-gown,  to  be  ready  to  give  the  gallant 
night-hawk,  her  husband,  the  service  he  might  require  on  his 
return  to  the  nest.  Hearing  a  suspicious  noise  below,  she 
rose,  and  deliberately  loaded  a  pair  of  horse-pistols,  weapons 
Mel  had  worn  in  his  holsters  in  the  heroic  days  gone ;  and 
with  these  she  stepped  down-stairs  straight  to  the  cellar, 
carrying  a  lantern  at  her  girdle.  She  could  not  only  load, 
but  present  and  fire.  Dandy  was  foremost  in  stating  that  she 
called  him  forth  steadily,  three  times,  before  the  pistol  was 
discharged.  He  admitted  that  he  was  frightened,  and  inca- 
pable of  speech,  at  the  apparition  of  the  tall,  terrific  woman. 
After  the  third  time  of  asking  he  had  the  ball  lodged  in  his 
leg  and  fell.  Mrs.  Mel  was  in  the  habit  of  bearing  heavier 
weights  than  Dandy.  She  made  no  ado  about  lugging  him 
to  a  chamber,  where,  with  her  own  hands  (for  this  woman 
had  some  slight  knowledge  of  surgery,  and  was  great  in  herbs 
and  drugs)  she  dressed  his  wound,  and  put  him  to  bed ;  crying 
contempt  (ever  present  in  Dandy's  memory)  at  such  a  poor 
creature  undertaking  the  work  of  housebreaker.  Taught 
that  he  really  was  a  poor  creature  for  the  work.  Dandy,  his 
nursing  over,  begged  to  be  allowed  to  stop  and  wait  on  Mrs. 
Mel ;  and  she  who  had,  like  many  strong  natures,  a  share  of 
pity  for  the  objects  she  despised,  did  not  cast  him  out.  A 
jerk  in  his  gait,  owing  to  the  bit  of  lead  Mrs.  Mel  had 
dropped  into  him,  and  a  little,  perhaps,  to  her  self-satisfied 
essay  in  surgical  science  on  his  person,  earned  him  the  name 
he  went  by. 

When  her  neighbours  remonstrated  with  her  for  housing 
a  reprobate,  Mrs.  Mel  would  say :  "  Dandy  is  well-fed  and 
well-physicked :  there's  no  harm  in  Dandy  ; "  by  which  she 
may  have  meant  that  the  food  won  his  gratitude,  and  the 
physic  reduced  his  humours.  She  had  observed  human 
nature.  At  any  rate,  Dandy  was  her  creature;  and  the 
great  Mel  himself  rallied  her  about  her  squire. 

"  ^Vhen  were  you  drunk  last  ?  "  was  Mrs.  Mel's  address  to 
Dandy,  as  he  stood  waiting  for  orders. 

He  replied  to  it  in  an  altogether  injured  way : 

"  There,  now ;  you've  been  and  called  me  away  from  my 
dinner  to  ask  me  that.  Why,  when  I  had  the  last  chance, 
to  be  sure." 

"  And  you  were  at  dinner  in  your  new  black  suit  ?  " 


64  EVAK  HARRINGTON 

"  Well, "  growled  Dandy,  "  I  borrowed  Sally's  apron. 
Seems  I  can't  please  ye." 

Mrs.  Mel  neither  enjoined  nor  cared  for  outward  forms  of 
respect,  where  she  was  sure  of  complete  subserviency.  If 
Dandy  went  beyond  the  limits,  she  gave  him  an  extra  dose. 
Up  to  the  limits  he  might  talk  as  he  pleased,  in  accordance 
with  Mrs.  Mel's  maxim,  that  it  was  a  necessary  relief  to  all 
talking  creatures. 

"Now,  take  off  your  apron,"  she  said,  "and  wash  your 
hands,  dirty  pig,  and  go  and  wait  at  table  in  there ; "  she 
pointed  to  the  parlour-door.  "Come  straight  to  me  when 
everybody  has  left." 

"Well,  there  I  am  with  the  bottles  again,"  returned 
Dandy.  "It's  your  fault  this  time,  mind!  I'll  come  as 
straight  as  I  can." 

Dandy  turned  away  to  perform  her  bidding,  and  Mrs.  Mel 
ascended  to  the  drawing-room  to  sit  with  Mrs.  Wishaw,  who 
was,  as  she  told  all  who  chose  to  hear,  an  old  flame  of  Mel's, 
and  was  besides,  what  Mrs.  Mel  thought  more  of,  the  wife  of 
Mel's  principal  creditor,  a  wholesale  dealer  in  cloth,  resident 
in  London. 

The  conviviality  of  the  mourners  did  not  disturb  the  house. 
Still,  men  who  are  not  accustomed  to  see  the  colour  of  wine 
every  day,  will  sit  and  enjoy  it,  even  upon  solemn  occasions, 
and  the  longer  they  sit  the  more  they  forget  the  matter  that 
has  brought  them  together.  Pleading  their  wives  and  shops, 
however,  they  released  Evan  from  his  miserable  ofiice  late  in 
the  afternoon.  His  mother  came  down  to  him,  and  saying, 
"I  see  how  you  did  the  journey  —  you  walked  it,"  told  him 
to  follow  her. 

"Yes,  mother,"  Evan  yawned,  "I  walked  part  of  the 
way.  I  met  a  fellow  in  a  gig  about  ten  miles  out  of  Fallow- 
field,  and  he  gave  me  a  lift  to  Flatsham.  I  just  reached 
Lymport  in  time,  thank  Heaven !  I  wouldn't  have  missed 
that !    By  the  way,  I've  satisfied  these  men." 

"  Oh ! "  said  Mrs.  Mel. 

"  They  wanted  —  one  or  two  of  them  —  what  a  penance  it 
is  to  have  to  sit  among  those  people  an  hour !  — they  wanted 
to  ask  me  about  the  business,  but  I  silenced  them.  I  told 
them  to  meet  me  here  this  day  week." 

Mrs.  Mel  again  said  "  Oh ! "  and,  pushing  into  one  of  the 


MOTHER  AND  SON  65 

upper  rooms,  "  Here's  your  bedroom,  Van,  just  as  you  left 
it." 

"Ah,  so  it  is,"  muttered  Evan,  eyeing  a  print.  "The 
Douglas  and  the  Percy  :  '  he  took  the  dead  man  by  the  hand.' 
What  an  age  it  seems  since  I  last  saw  that.  There's  Sir 
Hugh  Montgomery  on  horseback  —  he  hasn't  moved.  Don't 
you  remember  my  father  calling  it  the  Battle  of  Tit-for-Tat  ? 
Gallant  Percy !  I  know  he  wished  he  had  lived  in  those 
days  of  knights  and  battles." 

"  It  does  not  much  signify  whom  one  has  to  make  clothes 
for,"  observed  Mrs.  Mel.     Her  son  happily  did  not  mark  her. 

"  I  think  we  neither  of  us  were  made  for  the  days  of  pence 
and  pounds,"  he  continued.  "Now,  mother,  sit  down,  and 
talk  to  me  about  him.  Did  he  mention  me  ?  Did  he  give 
me  his  blessing  ?  I  hope  he  did  not  suffer.  I'd  have  given 
anything  to  press  his  hand,"  and  looking  wistfully  at  the 
Percy  lifting  the  hand  of  Douglas  dead,  Evan's  eyes  filled 
with  big  tears. 

"He  suffered  very  little,"  returned  Mrs.  Mel,  "and  his 
last  words  were  about  you." 

"What  were  they  ? "  Evan  burst  out. 

"  I  will  tell  you  another  time.  Now  undress,  and  go  to 
bed.  When  I  talk  to  you.  Van,  I  want  a  cool  head  to  listen. 
You  do  nothing  but  yawn  yard-measures." 

The  mouth  of  the  weary  youth  instinctively  snapped  short 
the  abhorred  emblem. 

"  Here,  I  will  help  you.  Van." 

In  spite  of  his  remonstrances  and  petitions  for  talk,  she 
took  off  his  coat  and  waistcoat,  contemptuously  criticizing 
the  cloth  of  foreign  tailors  and  their  absurd  cut. 

"Have  you  heard  from  Louisa?"  asked  Evan. 

"  Yes,  yes  —  about  your  sisters  by-and-by.  Now,  be  good, 
and  go  to  bed." 

She  still  treated  him  like  a  boy,  whom  she  was  going  to 
force  to  the  resolution  of  a  man. 

Dandy's  sleeping-room  was  on  the  same  floor  as  Evan's. 
Thither,  when  she  had  quitted  her  son,  she  directed  her 
steps.  She  had  heard  Dandy  tumble  up-stairs  the  moment 
his  duties  were  over,  and  knew  what  to  expect  when  the 
bottles  had  been  in  his  way ;  for  drink  made  Dandy  savage, 
and  a  terror  to  himself.     It  was  her  command  to  him  that, 


66  EVAN  HAKRINGTON 

when  he  happened  to  come  across  liquor,  he  should  imme- 
diately seek  his  bedroom  and  bolt  the  door,  and  Dandy  had 
got  the  habit  of  obeying  her.  On  this  occasion  he  was  vin- 
dictive against  her,  seeing  that  she  had  delivered  him  over 
to  his  enemy  with  malice  prepense.  A  good  deal  of  knocking, 
and  summoning  of  Dandy  by  name,  was  required  before  she 
was  admitted,  and  the  sight  of  her  did  not  delight  him,  as  he 
testified. 

"  I'm  drunk ! "  he  bawled.     «  Will  that  do  for  ye  ?  " 

Mrs.  Mel  stood  with  her  two  hands  crossed  above  her 
apron-string,  noting  his  sullen  lurking  eye  with  the  calm  of 
a  tamer  of  beasts. 

"  You  go  out  of  the  room ;  I'm  drunk ! "  Dandy  repeated, 
and  pitched  forward  on  the  bed-post,  in  the  middle  of  an  oath. 

She  understood  that  it  was  pure  kindness  on  Dandy's  part 
to  bid  her  go  and  be  out  of  his  reach ;  and  therefore,  on  his 
becoming  so  abusive  as  to  be  menacing,  she,  without  a  shade 
of  anger,  and  in  the  most  unruffled  manner,  administered  to 
him  the  remedy  she  had  reserved,  in  the  shape  of  a  smart 
box  on  the  ear,  which  sent  him  flat  to  the  floor.  He  rose, 
after  two  or  three  efforts,  quite  subdued. 

"  Now,  Dandy,  sit  on  the  edge  of  the  bed." 

Dandy  sat  on  the  extreme  edge,  and  Mrs.  Mel  pursued : 
"  Now,  Dandy,  tell  me  what  your  master  said  at  the  table." 

"  Talked  at  'em  like  a  lord,  he  did,"  said  Dandy,  stupidly 
consoling  the  boxed  ear. 

"  What  were  his  words  ?  " 

Dandy's  peculiarity  was,  that  he  never  remembered  any- 
thing save  when  drunk,  and  Mrs.  Mel's  dose  had  rather 
sobered  him.  By  degrees,  scratching  at  his  head  haltingly, 
he  gave  the  context. 

"'Gentlemen,  I  hear  for  the  first  time,  you've  claims 
against  my  poor  father.  Nobody  shall  ever  say  he  died,  and 
any  man  was  the  worse  for  it.  I'll  meet  you  next  week,  and 
I'll  bind  myself  by  law.  Here's  Lawyer  Perkins.  No ;  Mr. 
Perkins.  I'll  pay  off  every  penny.  Gentlemen,  look  upon 
me  as  your  debtor,  and  not  my  father.' " 

Deliv6ring  this  with  tolerable  steadiness,  Dandy  asked, 
"Will  that  do?" 

"  That  will  do,"  said  Mrs.  Mel.  "  I'll  send  you  up  some 
tea  presently.     Lie  down.  Dandy."  • 


MOTHER  AND  SON  67 

The  house  was  dark  and  silent  when  Evan,  refreshed  by 
his  rest,  descended  to  seek  his  mother.  She  was  sitting  alone 
in  the  parlour.  With  a  tenderness  which  Mrs.  Mel  permitted 
rather  than  encouraged,  Evan  put  his  arm  round  her  neck, 
and  kissed  her  many  times.  One  of  the  symptoms  of  heavy 
sorrow,  a  longing  for  the  signs  of  love,  made  Evan  fondle  his 
mother,  and  bend  over  her  yearningly.  Mrs.  Mel  said  once : 
"  Dear  Van ;  good  boy ! "  and  quietly  sat  through  his  caresses. 

"  Sitting  up  for  me,  mother  ?  "  he  whispered. 

"  Yes,  Van ;  we  may  as  well  have  our  talk  out." 

"  Ah ! "  he  took  a  chair  close  by  her  side,  "  tell  me  my 
father's  last  words." 

"  He  said  he  hoped  you  would  never  be  a  tailor." 

Evan's  forehead  wrinkled  up.  "  There's  not  much  fear  of 
that,  then ! " 

His  mother  turned  her  face  on  him,  and  examined  him 
with  a  rigorous  placidity ;  all  her  features  seeming  to  bear 
down  on  him.     Evan  did  not  like  the  look. 

"  You  object  to  trade.  Van  ?  " 

"Yes,  decidedly,  mother  —  hate  it;  but  that's  not  what 
I  want  to  talk  to  you  about.  Didn't  my  father  speak  of  me 
much  ?  " 

"  He  desired  that  you  should  wear  his  militia  sword,  if 
you  got  a  commission." 

"  I  have  rather  given  up  hope  of  the  Army,"  said  Evan. 

Mrs.  Mel  requested  him  to  tell  her  what  a  colonel's  full 
pay  amounted  to ;  and  again,  the  number  of  years  it  required, 
on  a  rough  calculation,  to  attain  that  grade.  In  reply  to  his 
statement  she  observed:  "A  tailor  might  realize  twice  the 
sum  in  a  quarter  of  the  time." 

"What  if  he  does  —  double,  or  treble?"  cried  Evan, 
impetuously ;  and  to  avoid  the  theme,  and  cast  off  the  bad 
impression  it  produced  on  him,  he  rubbed  his  hands,  and 
said :  "  I  want  to  talk  to -you  about  my  prospects,  mother." 

"  What  are  they  ?  "  Mrs.  Mel  inquired. 

The  severity  of  her  mien  and  sceptical  coldness  of  her 
speech  caused  him  to  inspect  them  suddenly,  as  if  she  had 
lent  him  her  eyes.  He  put  them  by,  till  the  gold  should 
recover  its  natural  shine,  saying :  "  By  the  way,  mother,  I've 
written  the  half  of  a  History  of  Portugal." 

"  Have  you  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Mel.     "  For  Louisa  ?  " 


68  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"  No,  mother,  of  course  not :  to  sell  it.  Albuquerque ! 
what  a  splendid  fellow  he  was ! " 

Informing  him  that  he  knew  she  abominated  foreign 
names,  she  said:  "And  your  prospects  are,  writing  His- 
tories of  Portugal  ?  " 

"  No,  mother.  I  was  going  to  tell  you,  I  expect  a  Govern- 
ment appointment.  Mr.  Jocelyn  likes  my  work  —  I  think 
he  likes  me.  You  know,  I  was  his  private  secretary  for  ten 
months." 

"  You  write  a  good  hand,"  his  mother  interposed. 

"  And  I'm  certain  I  was  born  for  diplomacy." 

"  For  an  easy  chair,  and  an  ink-dish  before  you,  and  lacqueys 
behind.     What's  to  be  your  income.  Van  ?  " 

Evan  carelessly  remarked  that  he  must  wait  and  see. 

"  A  very  proper  thing- to  do,"  said  Mrs.  Mel ;  for  now  that 
she  had  fixed  him  to  some  explanation  of  his  prospects,  she 
could  condescend  in  her  stiff  way  to  banter. 

Slightly  touched  by  it,  Evan  pursued,  half  laughing,  as 
men  do  who  wish  to  propitiate  common  sense  on  behalf  of 
what  seems  tolerably  absurd :  "  It's  not  the  immediate  income, 
you  know,  mother :  one  thinks  of  one's  future.  In  the  diplo- 
matic service,  as  Louisa  says,  you  come  to  be  known  to  Min- 
isters —  gradually,  I  mean.     That  is,  they  hear  of  you ;  and 

if  you  show  you  have  some  capacity Louisa  wants  me 

to  throw  it  up  in  time,  and  stand  for  Parliament.  Andrew, 
she  thinks,  would  be  glad  to  help  me  to  his  seat.  Once  in 
Parliament,  and  known  to  Ministers,  you  —  your  career  is 
open  to  you." 

In  justice  to  Mr.  Evan  Harrington,  it  must  be  said,  he 
built  up  this  extraordinary  card-castle  to  dazzle  his  mother's 
mind :  he  had  lost  his  right  grasp  of  her  character  for  the 
moment,  because  of  an  imdefined  suspicion  of  something  she 
intended,  and  which  sent  him  himself  to  take  refuge  in  those 
flimsy  structures ;  while  the  very  altitude  he  reached  beguiled 
his  imagination,  and  made  him  hope  to  impress  hers. 

Mrs.  Mel  dealt  it  one  fillip.  "  And  in  the  meantime  how 
are  you  to  live,  and  pay  the  creditors  ?  " 

Though  Evan  answered  cheerfully,  "Oh,  they  will  wait, 
and  I  can  live  on  anything,"  he  was  nevertheless  flounder- 
ing on  the  ground  amid  the  ruins  of  the  superb  edifice ;  and 
his  mother,  upright  and  rigid,  continuing,  "  You  can  live  on 


MOTHER   AND   SON  69 

anything,  and  they  will  wait,  and  call  your  father  a  rogue," 
he  started,  grievously  bitten  by  one  of  the  serpents  of  earth. 

"  Good  heaven,  mother !  what  are  you  saying  ?  " 

"  That  they  will  call  your  father  a  rogue,  and  will  have  a 
right  to,"  said  the  relentless  woman. 

"  Not  while  I  live  ! "  Evan  exclaimed. 

"  You  may  stop  one  mouth  with  your  fist,  but  you  won't 
stop  a  dozen,  Van." 

Evan  jumped  up  and  walked  the  room. 

"  What  am  I  to  do  ?  "  he  cried.  "  I  will  pay  everything. 
I  will  bind  myself  to  pay  every  farthing.  What  more  can 
I  possibly  do  ?  " 

"  Make  the  money,"  said  Mrs.  Mel's  deep  voice. 

Evan  faced  her:  "My  dear  mother,  you  are  very  unjust 
and  inconsiderate.  I  have  been  working  and  doing  my  best. 
I  promise what  do  the  debts  amount  to  ?  " 

"Something  like  5000^.  in  all,  Van." 

"  Very  well."  Youth  is  not  alarmed  by  the  sound  of  big 
sums.     "  Very  well  —  I  will  pay  it." 

Evan  looked  as  proud  as  if  he  had  just  clapped  down  the 
full  amount  on  the  table. 

"  Out  of  the  History  of  Portugal,  half  written,  and  the 
prospect  of  a  Government  appointment?" 

Mrs.  Mel  raised  her  eyelids  to  him. 

"  In  time  —  in  time,  mother ! " 

"  Mention  your  proposal  to  the  creditors  when  you  meet 
them  this  day  week,"  she  said. 

Neither  of  them  spoke  for  several  minutes.  Then  Evan 
came  close  to  her,  saying : 

"  What  is  it  you  want  of  me,  mother  ?  " 

"  /  want  nothing.  Van  —  I  can  support  myself." 

"  But  what  would  you  have  me  do,  mother  ?  " 

"Be  honest;  do  your  duty,  and  don't  be  a  fool  about 
it." 

"I  will  try,"  he  rejoined.  "You  tell  me  to  make  the 
money.  Where  and  how  can  I  make  it  ?  I  am  perfectly 
willing  to  work,"  * 

"  In  this  house,"  said  Mrs.  Mel ;  and,  as  this  was  pretty 
clear  speaking,  she  stood  up  to  lend  her  figure  to  it. 

"  Here  ?  "  faltered  Evan.     "  What !  be  a " 

"  Tailor !  "     The  word  did  not  sting  her  tongue. 


70  EVAN  HABRINGTON 

"  I  ?  On,  that's  quite  impossible ! "  said  Evan.  And 
visions  of  leprosy,  and  Rose  shrinking  her  skirts  from  contact 
with  him,  shadowed  out  and  away  in  his  mind. 

"  Understand  your  choice ! "  Mrs.  Mel  imperiously  spoke. 
"  What  are  brains  given  you  for  ?  To  be  played  the  fool 
with  by  idiots  and  women?  You  have  5000Z.  to  pay  to 
save  your  father  from  being  called  a  rogue.  You  can  only 
make  the  money  in  one  way,  which  is  open  to  you.  This 
business  might  produce  a  thousand  pounds  a-year  and  more. 
In  seven  or  eight  years  you  may  clear  your  father's  name, 
and  live  better  all  the  time  than  many  of  your  bankrupt 
gentlemen.  You  have  told  the  creditors  you  will  pay  them. 
Do  you  think  they're  gaping  fools,  to  be  satisfied  by  a  History 
of  Portugal  ?  If  you  refuse  to  take  the  business  at  once, 
they  will  sell  me  up,  and  quite  right  too.  Understand  your 
choice.  There's  Mr.  Goren  has  promised  to  have  you  in 
London  a  couple  of  months,  and  teach  you  what  he  can. 
He  is  a  kind  friend.  Would  any  of  your  gentlemen  ac- 
quaintance do  the  like  for  you  ?  Understand  your  choice. 
You  will  be  a  beggar  —  the  son  of  a  rogue  —  or  an  honest 
man  who  has  cleared  his  father's  name ! " 

During  this  strenuously  uttered  allocution,  Mrs.  Mel, 
though  her  chest  heaved  but  faintly  against  her  crossed 
hands,  showed  by  the  dilatation  of  her  eyes,  and  the  light  in 
them,  that  she  felt  her  words.  There  is  that  in  the  aspect 
of  a  fine  frame  breathing  hard  facts,  which,  to  a  youth  who 
has  been  tumbled  headlong  from  his  card-castles  and  airy 
fabrics,  is  masterful,  and  like  the  pressure  of  a  Fate.  Evan 
drooped  his  head. 

"Now,"  said  Mrs.  Mel,  "you  shall  have  some  supper." 

Evan  told  her  he  could  not  eat. 

"  I  insist  upon  your  eating,"  said  Mrs.  Mel ;  "  empty 
stomachs  are  foul  counsellors." 

"  Mother !  do  you  want  to  drive  me  mad  ?  "  cried  Evan. 

She  looked  at  him  to  see  whether  the  string  she  held  him 
by  would  bear  the  slight  additional  strain :  decided  not  to 
press  a  small  point. 

"  Then  go  to  bed  and  sleep  on  it,"  she  said  —  sure  of  him 
—  and  gave  her  cheek  for  his  kiss,  for  she  never  performed 
the  operation,  but  kept  her  mouth,  as  she  remarked,  for  food 
and  speech,  and  not  for  slobbering  mummeries. 


INTRODUCES   AN  ECCENTRIC  71 

Evan  returned  to  his  solitary  room.     He  sat  on  the  bed 

and  tried  to  think,  oppressed  by  horrible  sensations  of  self- 
contempt,  that  caused  whatever  he  touched  to  sicken  him. 

There  were  the  Douglas  and  the  Percy  on  the  wall.  It 
was  a  happy  and  a  glorious  time,  Avas  it  not,  when  men  lent 
each  other  blows  that  killed  outright ;  when  to  be  brave  and 
cherish  noble  feelings  brought  honour;  when  strength  of 
arm  and  steadiness  of  heart  won  fortune;  when  the  fair 
stars  of  earth  —  sweet  women  —  wakened  and  warmed  the 
love  of  squires  of  low  degree.  This  legacy  of  the  dead 
man's  hand !  Evan  would  have  paid  it  with  his  blood ;  but 
to  be  in  bondage  all  his  days  to  it ;  through  it  to  lose  all 
that  was  dear  to  him ;  to  wear  the  length  of  a  loathed  exist- 
ence !  —  we  should  pardon  a  young  man's  wretchedness  at 
the  prospect,  for  it  was  in  a  time  before  our  joyful  era  of 
universal  equality.  Yet  he  never  cast  a  shade  of  blame 
upon  his  father. 

The  hours  moved  on,  and  he  found  himself  staring  at  his 
small  candle,  which  struggled  more  and  more  faintly  with 
the  morning  light,  like  his  own  flickering  ambition  against 
the  facts  of  life. 


CHAPTER  VIII 

INTRODUCES    AN   ECCENTRIC 

At  the  Aurora  —  one  of  those  rare  antiquated  taverns, 
smelling  of  comfortable  time  and  solid  English  fare,  that  had 
sprung  up  in  the  great  coffee  days,  when  taverns  were  clubs, 
and  had  since  subsisted  on  the  attachment  of  steady  bachelor 
Templars  —  there  had  been  dismay,  and  even  sorrow,  for  a 
month.  The  most  constant  patron  of  the  establishment  — 
an  old  gentleman  who  had  dined  there  for  seven-and-twenty 
years,  four  days  in  the  week,  off  dishes  dedicated  to  the 
particular  days,  and  had  grown  grey  with  the  landlady, 
the  cook,  and  the  head-waiter  —  this  old  gentleman  had  ab- 
ruptly withheld  his  presence.  Though  his  name,  his  resi- 
dence, his  occupation,  were  things  only  to  be  speculated 
on  at  the  Aurora,  he  was  very  well  known  there,  and  as 


72  EVAN  HAKRINGTON 

men  are  best  to  be  known :  that  is  to  say,  by  their  habits. 
Some  affection  for  him  also  was  felt.  The  landlady  looked 
on  him  as  a  part  of  the  house.  The  cook  and  the  waiter 
were  accustomed  to  receive  acceptable  compliments  from 
him  monthly.  His  precise  words,  his  regular  ancient  jokes, 
his  pint  of  Madeira  and  after-pint  of  Port,  his  antique  bow 
to  the  landlady,  passing  out  and  in,  his  method  of  spreading 
his  table-napkin  on  his  lap  and  looking  up  at  the  ceiling  ere 
he  fell  to,  and  how  he  talked  to  himself  during  the  repast, 
and  indulged  in  short  chuckles,  and  the  one  look  of  perfect 
felicity  that  played  over  his  features  when  he  had  taken  his 
first  sip  of  Port  —  these  were  matters  it  pained  them  at  the 
Aurora  to  have  to  remember. 

For  three  weeks  the  resolution  not  to  regard  him  as  of 
the  past  was  general.  The  Aurora  was  the  old  gentleman's 
home.  Men  do  not  play  truant  from  home  at  sixty  years 
of  age.  He  must,  therefore,  be  seriously  indisposed.  The 
kind  heart  of  the  landlady  fretted  to  think  he  might  have 
no  soul  to  nurse  and  care  for  him ;  but  she  kept  his  corner 
near  the  fire-place  vacant,  aad  took  care  that  his  pint  of 
Madeira  was  there.  The  belief  was  gaining  ground  that  he 
had  gone,  and  that  nothing  but  his  ghost  would  ever  sit 
there  again.  Still  the  melancholy  ceremony  continued :  for 
the  landlady  was  not  without  a  secret  hope,  that  in  spite  of 
his  reserve  and  the  mystery  surrounding  him,  he  would 
have  sent  her  a  last  word.  The  cook  and  head-waiter,  in- 
terrogated as  to  their  dealings  with  the  old  gentleman,  tes- 
tified solemnly  to  the  fact  of  their  having  performed  their 
duty  by  him.  They  would  not  go  against  their  interests  so 
much  as  to  forget  one  of  his  ways,  they  said  —  taking  oath, 
as  it  were,  by  their  lower  nature,  in  order  to  be  credited :  an 
instinct  men  have  of  one  another.  The  landlady  could  not 
contradict  them,  for  the  old  gentleman  had  made  no  com- 
plaint; but  then  she  called  to  memory  that  fifteen  years 
back,  in  such  and  such  a  year,  Wednesday's  dish  had  been, 
by  shameful  oversight,  furnished  him  for  Tuesday's,  and  he 
had  eaten  it  quietly,  bat  refused  his  Port ;  which  pathetic 
event  had  caused  alarm  and  inquiry,  whep  the  error  was 
discovered,  and  apologized  for,  the  old  gentleman  merely 
saying,  "  Don't  let  it  happen  again."  Next  day  he  drank 
his  Port,  as  usual,  and  the  wheels   of  the  Aurora  went 


INTEODUCES   AN  ECCENTBIC  73 

Hinoothly.  The  landlady  was  thus  justified  in  averring  that 
something  had  been  done  by  somebody,  albeit  unable  to 
point  to  anything  specific.  Women,  who  are  almost  as 
deeply  bound  to  habit  as  old  gentlemen,  possess  more  of  its 
spiritual  element,  and  are  warned  by  dreams,  omens,  creep- 
ings  of  the  flesh,  unwonted  chills,  suicide  of  china,  and  other 
shadowing  signs,  when  a  break  is  to  be  anticipated,  or  has 
occurred.  The  landlady  of  the  Aurora  tavern  was  visited 
by  none  of  these,  and  with  that  beautiful  trust  which  habit 
gives,  and  which  boastful  love  or  vainer  earthly  qualities 
would  fail  in  effecting,  she  ordered  that  the  pint  of  Madeira 
should  stand  from  six  o'clock  in  the  evening  till  seven  —  a 
small  monument  of  confidence  in  him  who  was  at  one  instant 
the  "  poor  old  dear ; "  at  another,  the  "  naughty  old  gad- 
about ; "  further,  the  "  faithless  old  good-for-nothing ; "  and 
again,  the  "blessed  pet"  of  the  landlady's  parlour,  alter- 
nately and  indiscriminately  apostrophized  by  herself,  her 
sister,  and  daughter. 

On  the  last  day  of  the  month  a  step  was  heard  coming  up 
the  long  alley  which  led  from  the  riotous  scrambling  street 
to  the  plentiful  cheerful  heart  of  the  Aurora.  The  land- 
lady knew  the  step.  She  checked  the  natural  flutterings  of 
her  ribbons,  toned  down  the  strong  simper  that  was  on  her 
lips,  rose,  pushed  aside  her  daughter,  and,  as  the  step 
approached,  curtsied  composedly.  Old  Hai)it  lifted  his 
hat,  and  passed.  With  the  same  touching  confidence  in 
the  Aurora  that  the  Aurora  had  in  him,  he  went  straight 
to  his  corner,  expressed  no  surprise  at  his  welcome  by  the 
Madeira,  and  thereby  apparently  indicated  that  his  appear- 
ance should  enjoy  a  similar  immunity. 

As  of  old,  he  called  "  Jonathan !  "  and  was  not  to  be  dis- 
turbed till  he  did  so.  Seeing  that  Jonathan  smirked  and 
twiddled  his  napkin,  the  old  gentleman  added,  "  Thursday !  " 

But  Jonathan,  a  man,  had  not  his  mistress's  keen  intui- 
tion of  the  deportment  necessitated  by  the  case,  or  was 
incapable  of  putting  the  screw  upon  weak  excited  nature, 
for  he  continued  to  smirk,  and  was  remarking  how  glad 
he  was,  he  was  sure,  and  something  he  had  dared  to  think 
and  almost  to  fear,  when  the  old  gentleman  called  to  him, 
as  if  he  were  at  the  other  end  of  the  room,  "Will  you 
order  Thursday,  or  not,  sir?  "     Whereat  Jonathan  flew,  and 


74  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

two  or  three  cosy  diners  glanced  up  from  their  plates,  or 
the  paper,  smiled,  and  pursued  their  capital  occupation. 

"  Glad  to  see  me  I "  the  old  gentleman  muttered,  queru- 
lously. "  Of  course,  glad  to  see  a  customer !  Why  do  you 
tell  me  that?  Talk!  tattle!  might  as  well  have  a  woman 
to  wait  —  just !  " 

He  wiped  his  forehead  largely  with  his  handkerchief,  as 
one  whom  Calamity  hunted  a  little  too  hard  in  summer 
weather. 

"  No  tumbling-room  for  the  wine,  too !  " 

That  was  his  next  grievance.  He  changed  ths  pint  of 
Madeira  from  his  left  side  to  his  right,  and  went  under  his 
handkerchief  again,  feverishly.  The  world  was  severe  with 
this  old  gentleman. 

"  Ah !  clock  wrong  now !  " 

He  leaned  back  like  a  man  who  can  no  longer  carry  his 
burdens,  informing  Jonathan,  on  his  coming  up  to  place 
the  roll  of  bread  and  firm  butter,  that  he  was  forty  seconds 
too  fast,  as  if  it  were  a  capital  offence,  and  he  deserved  to 
step  into  Eternity  for  outstripping  Time. 

"  But,  I  daresay,  you  don't  understand  the  importance  of 
a  minute,"  said  the  old  gentleman,  bitterly,  "Not  you,  or 
any  of  you.  Better  if  we  had  run  a  little  ahead  of  your 
minute,  perhaps  —  and  the  rest  of  you !  Do  you  think  you 
can  cancel  the  mischief  that's  done  in  the  world  in  that 
minute,  sir,  by  hurrying  ahead  like  that?     Tell  me! " 

Rather  at  a  loss,  Jonathan  scanned  the  clock  seriously, 
and  observed  that  it  was  not  quite  a  minute  too  fast. 

The  old  gentleman  pulled  out  his  watch.  He  grunted 
that  a  lying  clock  was  hateful  to  him;  subsequently  sinking 
into  contemplation  of  his  thumbs, —  a  sign  known  to  Jona- 
than as  indicative  of  the  old  gentleman's  system  having 
resolved,  in  spite  of  external  outrages,  to  be  fortified  with 
calm  to  meet  the  repast. 

It  is  not  fair  to  go  behind  an  eccentric ;  but  the  fact  was, 
this  old  gentleman  was  slightly  ashamed  of  his  month's 
vagrancy  and  cruel  conduct,  and  cloaked  his  behaviour 
toward  the  Aurora,  in  all  the  charges  he  could  muster 
against  it.  He  was  very  human,  albeit  an  odd  form  of  the 
race. 

Happily  for  his  digestion  of  Thursday,  the  cook,  warned 


INTRODUCES  AN  ECCENTRIC  75 

by  Jonathan,  kept  the  old  gentleman's  time,  not  the 
Aurora's:  and  the  dinner  was  correct;  the  dinner  was 
eaten  in  peace;  he  began  to  address  his  plate  vigorously, 
poured  out  his  Madeira,  and  chuckled,  as  the  familiar  ideas 
engendered  by  good  wine  were  revived  in  him.  Jonathan 
reported  at  the  bar  that  the  old  gentleman  was  all  right 
again. 

One  would  like  here  to  pause,  while  our  worthy  ancient 
feeds,  and  indulge  in  a  short  essay  on  Habit,  to  show  what 
a  sacred  and  admirable  thing  it  is  that  makes  flimsy  Time 
substantial,  and  consolidates  his  triple  life.  It  is  proof  that 
we  have  come  to  the  end  of  dreams  and  Time's  delusions, 
and  are  determined  to  sit  down  at  Life's  feast  and  carve  for 
ourselves.  Its  day  is  the  child  of  yesterday,  and  has  a 
claim  on  to-morrow.  Whereas  those  who  have  no  such 
plan  of  existence  and  sum  of  their  wisdom  to  show,  the 
winds  blow  them  as  they  list.  Consider,  then,  mercifully 
the  wrath  of  him  on  whom  carelessness  or  forgetfulness 
has  brought  a  snap  in  the  links  of  Habit.  You  incline  to 
scorn  him  because,  his  slippers  misplaced,  or  asparagus 
not  on  his  table  the  first  day  of  a  particular  Spring  month, 
he  gazes  blankly  and  sighs  as  one  who  saw  the  End.  To 
you  it  may  appear  small.  You  call  to  him  to  be  a  man. 
He  is:  biit  he  is  also  an  immortal,  and  his  confidence  in 
unceasing  orderly  progression  is  rudely  dashed. 

But  the  old  gentleman  has  finished  his  dinner  and  his 
Madeira,  and  says :  "  Now,  Jonathan,  *thock  '  the  Port !  " — 
his  joke  when  matters  have  gone  well:  meant  to  express 
the  sound  of  the  uncocking,  probably.  The  habit  of  mak- 
ing good  jokes  is  rare,  as  you  know:  old  gentlemen  have 
not  yet  attained  to  it:  nevertheless  Jonathan  enjoys  this 
one,  which  has  seen  a  generation  in  and  out,  for  he  knows 
its  purport  to  be,  "My  heart  is  open." 

And  now  is  a  great  time  with  this  old  gentleman.  He 
sips,  and  in  his  eyes  the  world  grows  rosy,  and  he  ex- 
changes mute  or  monosyllable  salutes  here  and  there.  His 
habit  is  to  avoid  converse;  but  he  will  let  a  light  remark 
season  meditation. 

He  says  to  Jonathan:  "The  bill  for  the  month." 

"Yes,  sir,"  Jonathan  replies.  "Would  you  not  prefer, 
sir,  to  have  the  items  added  on  to  the  month  ensuing?  " 


76  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"I  asked  you  for  the  bill  of  the  month,"  said  the  old 
gentleman,  with  an  irritated  voice  and  a  twinkle  in  his 
eye. 

Jonathan  bowed ;  but  his  aspect  betrayed  perplexity,  and 
that  perplexity  was  soon  shared  by  the  landlady :  for  Jona- 
than said,  he  was  convinced  the  old  gentleman  intended  to 
pay  for  sixteen  days,  and  the  landlady  could  not  bring  her 
hand  to  charge  him  for  more  than  two.  Here  was  the 
dilemma  foreseen  by  the  old  gentleman,  and  it  added  vastly 
to  the  flavour  of  the  Port. 

Pleasantly  tickled,  he  sat  gazing  at  his  glass,  and  let  the 
minutes  fly.  He  knew  the  part  he  would  act  in  his  little 
farce.  If  charged  for  the  whole  month,  he  would  peruse 
the  bill  deliberately,  and  perhaps  cry  out  "  Hulloa  ?  "  and 
then  snap  at  Jonathan  for  the  interposition  of  a  remark. 
But  if  charged  for  two  days,  he  would  wish  to  be  told 
whether  they  were  demented,  those  people  outside,  and 
scornfully  return  the  bill  to  Jonathan. 

A  slap  on  the  shoulder,  and  a  voice :  "  Found  you  at  last, 
Tom !  "  violently  shattered  the  excellent  plot,  and  made  the 
old  gentleman  start.     He  beheld  Mr.  Andrew  Cogglesby. 

"Drinking  Port,  Tom?"  said  Mr.  Andrew.  "I'll  join 
you : "  and  he  sat  down  opposite  to  him,  rubbing  his  hands 
and  pushing  back  his  hair. 

Jonathan  entering  briskly  with  the  bill,  fell  back  a  step, 
in  alarm.  The  old  gentleman,  whose  inviolacy  was  thus 
rudely  assailed,  sat  staring  at  the  intruder,  his  mouth  com- 
pressed, and  three  fingers  round  his  glass,  which  it  was 
doubtful  whether  he  was  not  going  to  hurl  at  him. 

"  Waiter ! "  Mr.  Andrew  carelessly  hailed,  "  a  pint  of  this 
Port,  if  you  please." 

Jonathan  sought  the  countenance  of  the  old  gentleman. 

"  Do  you  hear,  sir  ?  "  cried  the  latter,  turning  his  wrath 
on  him.  "  Another  pint !  "  He  added :  "  Take  back  the 
bill ; "  and  away  went  Jonathan  to  relate  fresh  marvels  to 
his  mistress. 

Mr.  Andrew  then  addressed  the  old  gentleman  in  the  most 
audacious  manner. 

"  Astonished  to  see  me  here,  Tom  ?  Dare  say  you  are. 
I  knew  you  came  somewhere  in  this  neighbourhood,  and, 
as  I  wanted  to  speak  to  you  very  particularly,  and  you 


INTRODUCES  AN  ECCENTRIC  77 

wouldn't  be  visible  till  Monday,  why,  I  spied  into  two  or 
three  places,  and  here  I  am." 

You  might  see  they  were  brothers.  They  had  the  same 
bushy  eyebrows,  the  same  healthy  colour  in  their  cheeks, 
the  same  thick  shoulders,  and  brisk  way  of  speaking,  and 
clear,  sharp,  though  kindly,  eyes;  only  Tom  was  cast  in 
larger  proportions  than  Andrew,  and  had  gotten  the  grey 
furniture  of  Time  for  his  natural  wear.  Perhaps,  too,  a  cross 
in  early  life  had  a  little  twisted  him,  and  set  his  mouth  in 
a  rueful  bunch,  out  of  which  occasionally  came  biting  things. 
Mr.  Andrew  carried  his  head  up,  and  eyed  every  man  living 
with  the  benevolence  of  a  patriarch,  dashed  with  the  impu- 
dence of  a  London  sparrow.  Tom  had  a  nagging  air,  and 
a  trifle  of  acridity  on  his  broad  features.  Still,  anyone  at  a 
glance  could  have  sworn  they  were  brothers,  and  Jonathan 
unhesitatingly  proclaimed  it  at  the  Aurora  bar. 

Mr.  Andrew's  hands  were  working  together,  and  at  them, 
and  at  his  face,  the  old  gentleman  continued  to  look  with  a 
firmly  interrogating  air. 

"  Want  to  know  what  brings  me,  Tom  ?  I'll  tell  you 
presently.     Hot,  —  isn't  it  ?  " 

"  What  the  deuce  are  you  taking  exercise  for  ?  "  the  old 
gentleman  burst  out,  and  having  unlocked  his  mouth,  he 
began  to  puff  and  alter  his  posture. 

"  There  you  are,  thawed  in  a  minute ! "  said  Mr.  Andrew. 
"  What's  an  eccentric  ?  a  child  grown  grey.  It  isn't  mine ; 
I  read  it  somewhere.  Ah,  here's  the  Port!  —  good,  I'll 
warrant." 

Jonathan  deferentially  uncorked,  excessive  composure  on 
his  visage.  He  arranged  the  tablecloth  to  a  nicety,  fixed 
the  bottle  with  exactness,  and  was  only  sent  scudding  by  the 
old  gentleman's  muttering  of:  "Eavesdropping  pie!"  fol- 
lowed by  a  short,  "  Go ! "  and  even  then  he  must  delay  to 
sweep  off  a  particular  crumb. 

"  Good  it  is ! "  said  Mr.  Andrew,  rolling  the  flavour  on  his 
lips,  as  he  put  down  his  glass.  "  I  follow  you  in  Port,  Tom. 
Elder  brother ! " 

The  old  gentleman  also  drank,  and  was  mollified  enough 
to  reply :  "  Shan't  follow  you  in  Parliament." 

"  Haven't  forgiven  that  yet,  Tom  ?  " 

"  Nc  gre?*-  harm  done  when  you're  silent." 


78  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

"  Capital  Port ! "  said  Mr.  Andrew,  replenishing  the  glasses. 
"  I  ought  to  have  inquired  where  they  kept  the  best  Port. 
I  might  have  known  you'd  stick  by  it.  By  the  way,  talking 
of  Parliament,  there's  talk  of  a  new  election  for  Fallowfield. 
You  have  a  vote  there.  Will  you  give  it  to  Jocelyn  ?  There's 
talk  of  his  standing." 

"  If  he'll  wear  petticoats,  I'll  give  him  my  vote." 

"  There  you  go,  Tom ! " 

"I  hate  masquerades.  You're  penny  trumpets  of  the 
women.  That  tattle  comes  from  the  bed-curtains.  When 
a  petticoat  steps  forward  I  give  it  my  tote,  or  else  I  button 
it  up  in  my  pocket." 

This  was  probably  one  of  the  longest  speeches  he  had  ever 
delivered  at  the  Aurora.  There  was  extra  Port  in  it.  Jona- 
than, who  from  his  place  of  observation  noted  the  length  of 
time  it  occupied,  though  he  was  unable  to  gather  the  con- 
text, glanced  at  Mr.  Andrew  with  a  sly  satisfaction.  Mr. 
Andrew,  laughing,  signalled  for  another  pint. 

"  So  you've  come  here  for  my  vote,  have  you  ?  "  said  Mr. 
Tom. 

"Why,  no;  not  exactly  that,"  Mr.  Andrew  answered, 
blinking  and  passing  it  by. 

Jonathan  brought  the  fresh  pint,  and  Tom  filled  for  himself, 
drank,  and  said  emphatically,  and  with  a  confounding  voice : 

"  Your  women  have  been  setting  you  on  me,  sir ! " 

Andrew  protested  that  he  was  entirely  mistaken. 

"  You're  the  puppet  of  your  women ! " 

"  Well,  Tom,  not  in  this  instance.  Here's  to  the  bachelors, 
and  brother  Tom  at  their  head ! " 

It  seemed  to  be  Andrew's  object  to  help  his  companion  to 
carry  a  certain  quantity  of  Port,  as  if  he  knew  a  virtue  it 
had  to  subdue  him,  and  to  have  fixed  on  a  particular  meas- 
ure that  he  should  hold  before  he  addressed  him  specially. 
Arrived  at  this,  he  said : 

"  Look  here,  Tom.  I  know  your  ways.  I  shouldn't  have 
bothered  you  here;  I  never  have  before;  but  we  couldn't 
very  well  talk  it  over  in  business  hours ;  and  besides  you're 
never  at  the  Brewery  till  Monday,  and  the  matter's  rather 
urgent." 

"  ^Vhy  don't  you  speak  like  that  in  Parliament  ?  "  the  old 
man  interposed. 


INTRODUCES   AN  ECCENTRIC  79 

"Because  Parliament  isn't  my  brother,"  replied  Mr. 
Andrew.  "You  know,  Tom,  you  never  quite  took  to  my 
wife's  family." 

"  I'm  not  a  match  for  fine  ladies,  Nan." 

"  Well,  Harriet  would  have  taken  to  you,  Tom,  and  will 
now,  if  you'll  let  her.  Of  course,  it's  a  pity  if  she's  ashamed 
of  —  hem!  You  found  it  out  about  the  Lymport  people, 
Tom,  and  you've  kept  the  secret  and  respected  her  feelings, 
and  I  thank  you  for  it.  Women  are  odd  in  those  things, 
you  know.  She  mustn't  imagine  I've  heard  a  whisper.  I 
believe  it  would  kill  her." 

The  old  gentleman  shook  silently. 

"  Do  you  want  me  to  travel  over  the  kingdom,  hawking 
her  for  the  daughter  of  a  marquis  ?  " 

"Now,  don't  joke,  Tom.  I'm  serious.  Are  you  not  a 
Radical  at  heart  ?  Why  do  you  make  such  a  set  against 
the  poor  women  ?     What  do  we  spring  from  ?  " 

"  I  take  off  my  hat.  Nan,  when  I  see  a  cobbler's  stall." 

"  And  I,  Tom,  don't  care  a  rush  who  knows  it.  Homo  -^ 
something ;  but  we  never  had  much  schooling.  We've 
thriven,  and  should  help  those  we  can.  We've  got  on  in 
the  world  .  .  ." 

"Wife  come  back  from  Lymport?"  sneered  Tom. 

Andrew  hurriedly,  and  with  some  confusion,  explained 
that  she  had  not  been  able  to  go,  on  account  of  the  child. 

"  Account  of  the  child ! "  his  brother  repeated,  working 
his  chin  contemptuously.     "  Sisters  gone  ?  " 

"  They're  stopping  with  us,"  said  Andrew,  reddening. 

"  So  the  tailor  was  left  to  the  kites  and  the  crows.  All ! 
hum ! "  and  Tom  chuckled. 

"You're  angry  with  me,  Tom,  for  coming  here,"  said 
Andrew.  "I  see  what  it  is.  Thought  how  it  woiild  be! 
You're  offended,  old  Tom" 

"  Come  where  you  like,"  returned  Tom,  "  the  place  is  open. 
It's  a  fool  that  hopes  for  peace  anywhere.  They  sent  a 
woman  here  to  wait  on  me,  this  day  month." 

"That's  a  shame!"  said  Mr.  Andrew,  propitiatingly. 
"  Well,  never  mind,  Tom :  the  women  are  sometimes  in  the 
way.  — Evan  went  down  to  bury  his  father.  He's  there  now. 
You  wouldn't  see  him  when  he  was  at  the  Brewery,  Tom. 
He's  —  upon  my  honour!  he's  a  good  young  fellow." 


80  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"A  fine  young  gentleman,  I've  no  doubt,  Nan." 

"  A  really  good  lad,  Tom.  No  nonsense.  I've  come  here 
to  speak  to  you  about  him." 

Mr.  Andrew  drew  a  letter  from  his  pocket,  pursuing: 
"Just  throw  aside  your  prejudices,  and  read  this.  It's  a 
letter  I  had  from  him  this  morning.  But  first  I  must  tell 
you  how  the  case  stands." 

"  Know  more  than  you  can  tell  me,  Nan,"  said  Tom,  turn- 
ing over  the  fiavour  of  a  gulp  of  his  wine. 

"  Well,  then,  just  let  me  repeat  it.  He  has  been  capitally 
educated;  he  has  always  been  used  to  good  society:  well, 
we  mustn't  sneer  at  it:  good  society's  better  than  bad, 
you'll  allow.  He  has  refined  tastes :  well,  you  wouldn't 
like  to  live  among  crossing-sweepers,  Tom.  He's  clever 
and  accomplished,  can  speak  and  write  in  three  languages : 
I  wish  I  had  his  abilities.  He  has  good  manners:  well, 
Tom,  you  know  you  like  them  as  well  as  anybody.  And 
now  —  but  read  for  yourself." 

"  Yah ! "  went  old  Tom.  "  The  women  have  been  play- 
ing the  fool  with  him  since  he  was  a  baby.  I  read  his 
rigmarole  ?    No." 

Mr.  Andrew  shrugged  his  shoulders,  and  opened  the  let- 
ter, saying :  "  Well,  listen ; "  and  then  he  coughed,  and 
rapidly  skimmed  the  introductory  part.  "Excuses  him- 
self for  addressing  me  formally  —  poor  boy !  Circum- 
stances have  altered  his  position  towards  the  world: 
found  his  father's  affairs  in  a  bad  state:  only  chance  of 
paying  off  father's  debts  to  undertake  management  of 
business,  and  bind  himself  to  so  much  a  year.  But  there, 
Tom,  if  you  won't  read  it,  you  miss  the  poor  young  fel- 
low's character.  He  says  that  he  has  forgotten  his  sta- 
tion: fancied  he  was  superior  to  trade,  but  hates  debt; 
and  will  not  allow  anybody  to  throw  dirt  at  his  father's 
name,  while  he  can  work  to  clear  it;  and  will  sacrifice 
his  pride.  Come,  Tom,  that's  manly,  isn't  it?  I  call  it 
touching,  poor  lad ! " 

Manly  it  may  have  been,  but  the  touching  part  of  it  was 
a  feature  missed  in  Mr.  Andrew's  hands.  At  any  rate,  it 
did  not  appear  favourably  to  impress  Tom,  whose  chin  had 
gathered  its  ominous  puckers,  as  he  inquired : 

"What's  the  trade?  he  don't  say." 


INTRODUCES  AN  ECCENTRIC  81 

Andrew  added,  with  a  wave  of  the  hand :  "  Out  of  a  sort 
of  feeling  for  his  sisters  —  I  like  him  for  it.  Now  what  I 
want  to  ask  you,  Tom,  is,  whether  we  can't  assist  him  in 
some  way !  Why  couldn't  we  take  him  into  our  office,  and 
fix  him  there,  eh?  If  he  works  well  —  we're  both  getting 
old,  and  my  brats  are  chicks  —  we  might,  by-and-by,  give 
him  a  share." 

"Make  a  brewer  of  him?  Ha!  there'd  be  another  mighty 
sacrifice  for  his  pride ! " 

"Come,  come,  Tom,"  said  Andrew,  "he's  my  wife's 
brother,  and  I'm  yours ;  and  —  there,  you  know  what 
women  are.  They  like  to  preserve  appearances :  we  ought 
to  consider  them." 

"  Preserve  appearances ! "  echoed  Tom :  "  ha !  who'll  dc 
that  for  them  better  than  a  tailor  ? " 

Andrew  was  an  impatient  little  man,  fitter  for  a  kind 
action  than  to  plead  a  cause.  Jeering  jarred  on  him;  and 
from  the  moment  his  brother  began  it,  he  was  of  small  ser- 
vice to  Evan.  He  flung  back  against  the  partition  of  the 
compound,  rattling  it  to  the  disturbance  of  many  a  quiet 
digestion. 

"  Tom,"  he  cried,  "  I  believe  you're  a  screw ! " 

"Never  said  I  wasn't,"  rejoined  Tom,  as  he  finished  his 
glass.  "I'm  a  bachelor,  and  a  person  —  you're  married, 
and  an  object.  I  won't  have  the  tailor's  family  at  my  coat- 
tails." 

"  Do  you  mean  to  say,  Tom,  you  don't  like  the  young  fel- 
low ?  The  Countess  says  he's  half  engaged  to  an  heiress ; 
and  he  has  a  chance  of  appointments  —  of  course,  nothing 
may  come  of  them.  But  do  you  mean  to  say,  you  don't 
like  him  for  what  he  has  done  ?  " 

Tom  made  his  jaw  disagreeably  prominent.  "'Fraid  I'm 
guilty  of  that  crime." 

"And  you  that  swear  at  people  pretending  to  be  above 
their  station ! "  exclaimed  Andrew.  "  I  shall  get  in  a  pas- 
sion. I  can't  stand  this.  Here,  waiter!  what  have  I  to 
pay?" 

"Go,"  cried  the  time-honoured  guest  of  the  Aurora  to 
Jonathan  advancing. 

Andrew  pressed  the  very  roots  of  his  hair  back  from  his 
red  forehead,  and  sat  upright  and  resolute,  glancing  at  Tom. 


82  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

And  now  ensued  a  curious  scene  of  family  blood.  For  no 
sooner  did  elderly  Tom  observe  this  bantam-like  demeanour 
of  his  brother,  than  he  ruffled  his  feathers  likewise,  and 
looked  down  on  him,  agitating  his  wig  over  a  prodigious 
frown.  Whereof  came  the  following  sharp  colloquy ; 
Andrew  beginning: 

"  I'll  pay  off  the  debts  out  of  my  own  pocket." 

"  You  can  make  a  greater  fool  of  yourself,  then  ?  " 

"  He  shan't  be  a  tailor ! " 

"  He  shan't  be  a  brewer ! " 

"  I  say  he  shall  live  like  a  gentleman ! " 

"  I  say  he  shall  squat  like  a  Turk ! " 

Bang  went  Andrew's  hand  on  the  table:  "I've  pledged 
my  word,  mind ! " 

Tom  made  a  counter  demonstration :  "  And  I'll  have  my 
way ! " 

"  Hang  it !  I  can  be  as  eccentric  as  you,"  said  Andrew. 

"And  I  as  much  a  donkey  as  you,  if  I  try  hard,"  said 
Tom. 

Something  of  the  cobbler's  stall  followed  this ;  till  waxing 
furious,  Tom  sung  out  to  Jonathan,  hovering  around  them 
in  watchful  timidity,  "  More  Port ! "  and  the  words  immedi- 
ately fell  oily  on  the  wrath  of  the  brothers ;  both  commenced 
wiping  their  heads  with  their  handkerchiefs :  the  faces  of 
both  emerged  and  met,  with  a  half-laugh:  and,  severally 
determined  to  keep  to  what  they  had  spoken,  there  was  a 
tacit  accord  between  them  to  drop  the  subject. 

Like  sunshine  after  smart  rain,  the  Port  shone  on  these 
brothers.  Like  a  voice  from  the  pastures  after  the  bellow- 
ing of  the  thunder,  Andrew's  voice  asked :  "  Got  rid  of  that 
twinge  of  the  gout,  Tom  ?  Did  you  rub  in  that  ointment  ?  " 
while  Tom  replied :  "Ay.  How  about  that  rheumatism  of 
yours  ?  Have  you  tried  that  Indy  oil  ?  "  receiving  a  like 
assurance. 

The  remainder  of  the  Port  ebbed  in  meditation  and  chance 
remarks.  The  bit  of  storm  had  done  them  both  good ;  and 
Tom  especially  —  the  cynical,  carping,  grim  old  gentleman 
—  was  much  improved  by  the  nearer  resemblance  of  his 
manner  to  Andrew's. 

Behind  this  unaffected  fraternal  concord,  however,  the  fact 
that  they  were  pledged  to  a  race  in  eccentricity,  was  present. 


INTRODUCES  AN  ECCENTRIC  83 

They  had  been  rivals  before;  and  anterior  to  the  date  of 
his  marriage,  Andrew  had  done  odd  eclipsing  things.  But 
Andrew  required  prompting  to  it;  he  required  to  be  put 
upon  his  mettle.  Whereas,  it  was  more  nature  with  Tom  : 
nature  and  the  absence  of  a  wife,  gave  him  advantages  over 
Andrew.  Besides,  he  had  his  character  to  maintain.  He 
had  said  the  word :  and  the  first  vanity  of  your  born  eccen- 
tric is,  that  he  shall  be  taken  for  infallible. 

Presently  Andrew  ducked  his  head  to  mark  the  evening 
clouds  flushing  over  the  court-yard  of  the  Aurora. 

"  Time  to  be  off,  Tom,"  he  said :  "  wife  at  home." 

"  Ah ! "  Tom  answered.  "  Well,  I  haven't  got  to  go  to  bed 
so  early." 

"  What  an  old  rogue  you  are,  Tom ! "  Andrew  pushed 
his  elbows  forward  on  the  table  amiably.  "  'Gad,  we  haven't 
drunk  wine  together  since  —  by  George !  we'll  have  another 
pint." 

"Many  as  you  like,"  said  Tom. 

Over  the  succeeding  pint,  Andrew,  in  whose  veins  the 
Port  was  merry,  favoured  his  brother  with  an  imitation  of 
Major  Strike,  and  indicated  his  dislike  to  that  officer.  Tom 
informed  him  that  Major  Strike  was  speculating. 

"  The  ass  eats  at  my  table,  and  treats  me  with  contempt." 

"  Just  tell  him  that  you're  putting  by  the  bones  for  him. 
He'll  want  'em." 

Then  Andrew  with  another  glance  at  the  clouds,  now 
violet  on  a  grey  sky,  said  he  must  really  be  off.  Upon  which 
Tom  observed :  "  Don't  come  here  again." 

"  You  old  rascal,  Tom ! "  cried  Andrew,  swinging  over 
the  table:  "it's  quite  jolly  for  us  to  be  hob-a-nobbing  to- 
gether once  more.  'Gad !  —  no,  we  won't  though !  I  promised 
Harriet.     Eh  ?     What  say,  Tom  ?  " 

"  'Mother  pint.  Nan  ?  " 

Tom  shook  his  head  in  a  roguishly-cosy,  irresistible  way. 
Andrew,  from  a  shake  of  denial  and  resolve,  fell  into  the 
same ;  and  there  sat  the  two  brothers  —  a  jolly  picture. 

The  hour  was  ten,  when  Andrew  Cogglesby,  comforted 
by  Tom's  remark,  that  he,  Tom,  had  a  wig,  and  that  he, 
Andrew,  would  have  a  wigging,  left  the  Aurora;  and  he 
left  it  singing  a  song.  Tom  Cogglesby  still  sat  at  his  table, 
holding  before  him  Evan's  letter,  of  which  he  had  got  pos- 


84  EVAN  HARKINGTON 

session ;  and  knocking  it  round  and  round  with  a  stroke  of 
the  forefinger,  to  the  tune  of,  "  Tinker,  tailor,  soldier,  sailor, 
'pothecary,  ploughboy,  thief ;  "  each  profession  being  sounded 
as  a  corner  presented  itself  to  the  point  of  his  nail.  After 
indulging  in  this  species  of  incantation  for  some  length  of 
time,  Tom  Cogglesby  read  the  letter  from  beginning  to  end, 
and  called  peremptorily  for  pen,  ink,  and  paper. 


CHAPTER  IX 

THE  COUNTESS   IN   LOW  SOCIETY 

By  dint  of  stratagems  worthy  of  a  Court  intrigue,  the 
Countess  de  Saldar  contrived  to  traverse  the  streets  of  Lym- 
port,  and  enter  the  house  where  she  was  born,  unsuspected 
and  unseen,  under  cover  of  a  profusion  of  lace  and  veil  and 
mantilla,  which  only  her  heroic  resolve  to  keep  her  beauties 
hidden  from  the  profane  townspeople  could  have  rendered 
endurable  beneath  the  fervid  summer  sun.  Dress  in  a 
foreign  style  she  must,  as  without  it  she  lost  that  sense  of 
superiority,  which  was  the  only  comfort  to  her  in  her  tribu- 
lations. The  period  of  her  arrival  was  ten  days  subsequent 
to  the  burial  of  her  father.  She  had  come  in  the  coach,  like 
any  common  mortal,  and  the  coachman,  upon  her  request, 
had  put  her  down  at  the  Governor's  house,  and  the  guard 
had  knocked  at  the  door,  and  the  servant  had  informed  her 
that  General  Hucklebridge  was  not  the  governor  of  L3'"m- 
port,  nor  did  Admiral  Combleman  then  reside  in  the  town ; 
which  tidings,  the  coach  then  being  out  of  sight,  it  did  not 
disconcert  the  Countess  to  hear ;  and  she  reached  her  mother, 
having,  at  least,  cut  off  communication  with  the  object  of 
conveyance. 

The  Countess  kissed  her  mother,  kissed  Mrs.  Fiske,  and 
asked  sharply  for  Evan.  Mrs.  Fiske  let  her  know  that 
Evan  was  in  the  house. 

"  Where  ?  "  inquired  the  Countess.  "  I  have  news  of  the 
utmost  importance  for  him.     I  must  see  him." 

"Where  is  he,  aunt?"  said  Mrs.  Fiske.  "In  the  shop,  I 
think ;  I  wonder  he  did  not  see  you  passing,  Louisa." 


THE  COUNTESS   IN  LOW   SOCIETY  85 

The  Countess  went  bolt  down  into  a  chair. 

"Go  to  him,  Jane,"  said  Mrs.  Mel.  "Tell  him  Louisa 
is  here,  and  don't  return." 

Mrs.  Fiske  departed,  and  the  Countess  smiled. 

"  Thank  you,  Mama !  you  know  I  never  could  bear  that 
odious,  vulgar  little  woman.  Oh,  the  heat!  You  talk  of 
Portugal !  And,  oh !  poor  dear  Papa !  what  I  have  suf- 
fered!" 

Flapping  her  laces  for  air,  and  wiping  her  eyes  for  sorrow, 
the  Countess  poured  a  flood  of  sympathy  into  her  mother's 
ears  and  then  said : 

"  But  you  have  made  a  great  mistake,  Mama,  in  allowing 
Evan  to  put  his  foot  into  that  place.  He  -^  beloved  of  an 
heiress !  Why,  if  an  enemy  should  hear  of  it,  it  would 
ruin  him  —  positively  blast  him  —  for  ever.  And  that  she 
loves  him  I  have  proof  positive.  Yes ;  with  all  her  frank- 
ness, the  little  thing  cannot  conceal  that  from  me  now.  She 
loves  him !  And  I  desire  you  to  guess,  Mama,  whether 
rivals  will  not  abound  ?  And  what  enemy  so  much  to  be 
dreaded  as  a  rival  ?  And  what  revelation  so  awful  as  that 
he  has  stood  in  a  —  in  a  —  boutique  ?  " 

Mrs.  Mel  maintained  her  usual  attitude  for  listening.  It 
had  occurred  to  her  that  it  might  do  no  good  to  tell  the 
grand  lady,  her  daughter,  of  Evan's  resolution,  so  she  simply- 
said,  "  It  is  discipline  for  him,"  and  left  her  to  speak  a  pri- 
vate word  with  the  youth. 

Timidly  the  Countess  inspected  the  furniture  of  the  apart- 
ment, taking  chills  at  the  dingy  articles  she  saw,  in  the 
midst  of  her  heat.  That  she  should  have  sprung  from  this  ! 
The  thought  was  painful ;  still  she  could  forgive  Providence 
so  much.  But  should  it  ever  be  known  she  had  sprung  from 
this !  Alas !  she  felt  she  never  could  pardon  such  a  dire 
betrayal.  She  had  come  in  good  spirits,  but  the  mention  of 
Evan's  backsliding  had  troubled  her  extremely,  and  though 
she  did  not  say  to  herself.  What  was  the  benefit  resulting 
from  her  father's  dying,  if  Evan  would  be  so  base-minded  ? 
she  thought  the  thing  indefinitely,  and  was  forming  the 
words  on  her  mouth,  One  Harrington  in  a  shop  is  equal  to 
all !  when  Evan  appeared  alone. 

"  Why,  goodness  gracious !  where's  your  moustache  ?  " 
cried  the  Countess. 


86  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"  Gone  the  way  of  hair ! "  said  Evan,  coldly  stooping  to 
her  forehead. 

"  Such  a  distinction ! "  the  Countess  continued,  reproach- 
fully. "  Why,  mon  Dieu !  one  could  hardly  tell  you,  as  you 
look  now,  from  the  very  commonest  tradesman  —  if  you  were 
not  rather  handsome  and  something  of  a  figure.  It's  a  dis- 
guise, Evan —  do  you  know  that  ?  " 

"  And  I've  parted  with  it  —  that's  all,"  said  Evan.  "  No 
more  disguises  for  me ! " 

The  Countess  immediately  took  his  arm,  and  walked  with 
him  to  a  window.  His  face  was  certainly  changed.  Mur- 
muring that  the  air  of  Lymport  was  bad  for  him,  and  that 
he  must  leave  it  instantly,  she  bade  him  sit  and  attend  to 
what  she  was  about  to  say. 

"  While  you  have  been  here,  degenerating,  Evan,  day  by 
day  —  as  you  always  do  out  of  my  sight  —  degenerating !  no 
less  a  word !  —  I  have  been  slaving  in  your  interests.  Yes ;  I 
have  forced  the  Jocelyns  socially  to  acknowledge  us.  I  have 
not  slept ;  I  have  eaten  bare  morsels.  Do  abstinence  and 
vigils  clear  the  wits  ?  I  know  not !  but  indeed  they  have 
enabled  me  to  do  more  in  a  week  than  would  suffice  for  a  life- 
time. Hark  to  me.  I  have  discovered  Rose's  secret.  Si ! 
It  is  so !  Rose  loves  you.  You  blush ;  you  blush  like  a  girl. 
She  loves  you,  and  you  have  let  yourself  be  seen  in  a  shop ! 
Contrast  me  the  two  things.  Oh !  in  verity,  dreadful  as  it 
is,  one  could  almost  laugh.  But  the  moment  I  lose  sight  of 
you,  my  instructions  vanish  as  quickly  as  that  hair  on  your 
superior  lip,  which  took  such  time  to  perfect.  Alas !  you 
must  grow  it  again  immediately.  Use  any  perfumer's  con- 
trivance. Rowland !  I  have  great  faith  in  Rowland.  With- 
out him,  I  believe,  there  would  have  been  many  bald  women 
committing  suicide !  You  remember  the  bottle  I  gave  to  the 
Count  de  Villa  Flor?  'Countess,'  he  said  to  me,  'you  have 
saved  this  egg-shell  from  a  crack  by  helping  to  cover  it '  —  for 
so  he  called  his  head  —  the  top,  you  know,  was  beginning  to 
shine  like  an  egg.  And  I  do  fear  me  he  would  have  done  it. 
Ah !  you  do  not  conceive  Avhat  the  dread  of  baldness  is !  To 
a  woman  death  —  death  is  preferable  to  baldness !  Baldness 
is  death !  And  a  wig  —  a  wig !  Oh,  horror !  total  extinction 
is  better  than  to  rise  again  in  a  wig !  But  you  are  young, 
and  play  with  hair.     But  I  was  saying,  I  went  to  see  the 


THE  COUNTESS  IN  LOW   SOCIETY  87 

Jocelyns.  I  was  introduced  to  Sir  Franks  and  his  lady  and 
the  wealthy  grandmother.  And  I  have  an  invitation  for  you, 
Evan — you  unmannered  boy,  that  you  do  not  bow !  A  gentle 
incline  forward  of  the  shoulders,  and  the  eyes  fixed  softly, 
your  upper  lids  drooping  triflingly,  as  if  you  thanked  with 
gentle  sincerity,  but  were  indifferent.  Well,  well,  if  you 
will  not !  An  invitation  for  you  to  spend  part  of  the  autumn 
at  Beckley  Court,  the  ancestral  domain,  where  there  will  be 
company  —  the  nobles  of  the  land !  Consider  that.  You  say 
it  was  bold  in  me  to  face  them  after  that  horrible  man  com- 
mitted us  on  board  the  vessel  ?  A  Harrington  is  anything 
but  a  coward.  I  did  go  —  and  because  I  am  devoted  to  y oui 
interests.  That  very  morning,  I  saw  announced  in  the  paper, 
just  beneath  poor  Andrew's  hand,  as  he  held  it  up  at  the 
breakfast-table,  reading  it,  I  saw  among  the  deaths,  Sir 
Abraham  Harrington,  of  Torquay,  Baronet,  of  quinsy !  Twice 
that  good  man  has  come  to  my  rescue !  Oh  !  I  welcomed 
him  as  a  piece  of  Providence !  I  turned  and  said  to  Harriet, 
'  I  see  they  have  put  poor  Papa  in  the  paper.*  Harriet  was 
staggered.  I  took  the  paper  from  Andrew,  and  pointed  it  to 
her.  She  has  no  readiness.  She  has  had  no  foreign  training. 
She  could  not  comprehend,  and  Andrew  stood  on  tiptoe,  and 
peeped.  He  has  a  bad  cough,  and  coughed  himself  black  in 
the  face.  /  attribute  it  to  excessive  bad  manners  and  his 
cold  feelings.  He  left  the  room.  I  reproached  Harriet.  But, 
oh !  the  singularity  of  the  excellent  fortune  of  such  an  event 
at  such  a  time!  It  showed  that  our  Harrington-luck  had 
not  forsaken  us.  I  hurried  to  the  Jocelyns  instantly.  Of 
course,  it  cleared  away  any  suspicions  aroused  in  them  by 
that  horrible  man  on  board  the  vessel.  And  the  tears  I  wept 
for  Sir  Abraham,  Evan,  in  verity  they  were  tears  of  deep 
and  sincere  gratitude !  What  is  your  mouth  knitting  the 
corners  at  ?     Are  you  laughing  ?  " 

Evan  hastily  composed  his  visage  to  the  melancholy  that 
was  no  counterfeit  in  him  just  then. 

"Yes,"  continued  the  Countess,  easily  reassured,  "I  shall 
ever  feel  a  debt  to  Sir  Abraham  Harrington,  of  Torquay. 
I  dare  say  we  are  related  to  him.  At  least  he  has  done  us 
more  service  than  many  a  rich  and  titled  relative.  No  one 
supposes  he  would  acknowledge  poor  Papa.  I  can  forgive 
him  that,  Evan ! "      The  Countess  pointed  out  her  finger 


88  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

with  mournful  and  impressive  majesty,  "  As  we  look  down 
on  that  monkey,  people  of  rank  and  consideration  in  society 
look  on  what  poor  dear  Papa  was." 

This  was  partly  true,  for  Jacko  sat  on  a  chair,  in  his 
favourite  attitude,  copied  accurately  from  the  workmen  of 
the  establishment  at  their  labour  with  needle  and  thread. 
Growing  cognizant  of  the  infamy  of  his  posture,  the 
Countess  begged  Evan  to  drive  him  out  of  her  sight,  and 
took  a  sniff  at  her  smelling-bottle. 

She  went  on :  "  Now,  dear  Van,  you  would  hear  of  your 
sweet  Kose?" 

"  Not  a  word !  "  Evan  hastily  answered. 

"Why,  what  does  this  indicate?  Whims!  Then  you  do 
love?" 

"  I  tell  you,  Louisa,  I  don't  want  to  hear  a  word  of  any 
of  them,"  said  Evan,  with  an  angry  gleam  in  his  eyes. 
"  They  are  nothing  to  me,  nor  I  to  them.  I  —  my  walk  in 
life  is  not  theirs." 

"  Faint  heart !  faint  heart ! "  the  Countess  lifted  a  pro- 
verbial forefinger. 

"  Thank  heaven,  I  shall  have  the  consolation  of  not  going 
about,  and  bowing  and  smirking  like  an  impostor!"  Evan 
exclaimed. 

There  was  a  wider  intelligence  in  the  Countess's  arrested 
gaze  than  she  chose  to  fashion  into  speech. 

"  I  knew, "  she  said,  "  I  knew  how  the  air  of  this  horrible 
Lymport  would  act  on  you.  But  while  I  live,  Evan,  you 
shall  not  sink  in  the  sludge.  You,  with  all  the  pains  I 
have  lavished  on  you !  and  with  your  presence !  —  for  you 
have  a  presence,  so  rare  among  young  men  in  this  England ! 
You,  who  have  been  to  a  Court,  and  interchanged  bows 
with  duchesses,  and  I  know  not  what  besides  —  nay,  I  do 
not  accuse  you ;  but  if  you  had  not  been  a  mere  boy,  and  an 
English  boy  —  poor  Eugenia  herself  confessed  to  me  that 
you  had  a  look  —  a  tender  cleaving  of  the  under-lids  —  that 
made  her  catch  her  hand  to  her  heart  sometimes:  it  re- 
minded her  so  acutely  of  false  Belmarana.  Could  you  have 
had  a  greater  compliment  than  that?  You  shall  not  stop 
here  another  day !  " 

"True,"  said  Evan,  "for  I'm  going  to  London  to-night." 

"Not  to  London,"  the  Countess  returned,  with  a  con- 
quering glance,  "but  to  Beckley  Court  —  and  with  me." 


THE  COUNTESS  IN  LOW   SOCIETY  89 

"To  London,  Louisa,  with  Mr.  Goren." 

Again  the  Countess  eyed  him  largely;  but  took,  as  it 
were,  a  side-path  from  her  broad  thought,  saying:  "Yes, 
fortunes  are  made  in  London,  if  you  would  they  should  be 
rapid." 

She  meditated.  At  that  moment  Dandy  knocked  at  the 
door,  and  called  outside :  "  Please,  master,  Mr.  Goren  says 
there's  a  gentleman  in  the  shop  —  wants  to  see  you." 

"Very  well,"  replied  Evan,  moving.  He  was  swung 
violently  round. 

The  Countess  had  clutched  him  by  the  arm.  A  fearful 
expression  was  on  her  face. 

"  Whither  do  you  go?"  she  said. 

"To  the  shop,  Louisa." 

Too  late  to  arrest  the  villanous  word,  she  pulled  at  him. 
"Are  you  quite  insane?  Consent  to  be  seen  by  a^ntle- 
man  there?  What  has  come  to  you?  You  must  be  lunatic! 
Are  we  all  to  be  utterly  ruined  —  disgraced?" 

"Is  my  mother  to  starve? "  said  Evan. 

"  Absurd  rejoinder !  No !  You  should  have  sold  every- 
thing here  before  this.  She  can  live  with  Harriet  —  she  — 
once  out  of  this  horrible  element  —  she  would  not  show  it. 
But,  Evan,  you  are  getting  away  from  me:  you  are  not 
going?  —  speak !  " 

"I  am  going,"  said  Evan. 

The  Countess  clung  to  him,  exclaiming:  "Never,  while  I 
have  the  power  to  detain  you ! "  but  as  he  was  firm  and 
strong,  she  had  recourse  to  her  woman's  aids,  and  burst 
into  a  storm  of  sobs  on  his  shoulder  —  a  scene  of  which 
Mrs.  Mel  was,  for  some  seconds,  a  composed  spectator. 

"What's  the  matter  now?"  said  Mrs.  Mel. 

Evan  impatiently  explained  the  case.  Mrs.  Mel  desired 
her  daughter  to  avoid  being  ridiculous,  and  making  two 
fools  in  her  family;  and  at  the  same  time  that  she  told 
Evan  there  was  no  occasion  for  him  to  go,  contrived,  with 
a  look,  to  make  the  advice  a  command.  He,  in  that  state 
of  mind  when  one  takes  bitter  delight  in  doing  an  abhorred 
duty,  was  hardly  willing  to  be  submissive;  but  the  despair 
of  the  Countess  reduced  him,  and  for  her  sake  he  consented 
to  forego  the  sacrifice  of  his  pride  which  was  now  his  sad, 
sole  pleasure.     Feeling  him  linger,  the  Countess  relaxed 


90  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

her  grasp.  Hers  were  tears  that  dried  as  soon  as  they  had 
served  their  end;  and,  to  give  him  the  full  benefit  of  his 
conduct,  she  said:  "I  knew  Evan  would  be  persuaded  by 
me." 

Evan  pitifully  pressed  her  hand,  and  sighed. 

"Tea  is  on  the  table  down-stairs,"  said  Mrs.  Mel.  "I 
have  cooked  something  for  you,  Louisa.  Do  you  sleep 
here  to-night?" 

"Can  I  tell  you,  Mama?"  murmured  the  Countess.  "I 
am  dependent  on  our  Evan." 

"Oh!  well,  we  will  eat  first,"  said  Mrs.  Mel,  and  they 
went  to  the  table  below,  the  Countess  begging  her  mother 
to  drop  titles  in  designating  her  to  the  servants,  which 
caused  Mrs.  Mel  to  say: 

"  There  is  but  one.  I  do  the  cooking; "  and  the  Countess, 
ever  disposed  to  flatter  and  be  suave,  even  when  stung  by  a 
fact  or  a  phrase,  added : 

"  And  a  beautiful  cook  you  used  to  be,  dear  Mama ! " 

At  the  table,  awaiting  them,  sat  Mrs.  Wishaw,  Mrs. 
Fiske,  and  Mr.  Goren,  who  soon  found  themselves  envel- 
oped in  the  Countess's  graciousness.  Mr.  Goren  would 
talk  of  trade,  and  compare  Lymport  business  with  London, 
and  the  Countess,  loftily  interested  in  his  remarks,  drew 
him  out  to  disgust  her  brother.  Mrs.  Wishaw,  in  whom 
the  Countess  at  once  discovered  a  frivolous  pretentious 
woman  of  the  moneyed  trading  class,  she  treated  as  one 
who  was  alive  to  society,  and  surveyed  matters  from  a  sta- 
tion in  the  world,  leading  her  to  think  that  she  tolerated 
Mr.  Goren,  as  a  lady-Christian  of  the  highest  rank  should 
tolerate  the  insects  that  toil  for  us.  Mrs.  Fiske  was  not  so 
tractable,  for  Mrs.  Eiske  was  hostile  and  armed.  Mrs. 
Fiske  adored  the  great  Mel,  and  she  had  never  loved 
Louisa.  Hence,  she  scorned  Louisa  on  account  of  her  late 
behaviour  toward  her  dead  parent.  The  Countess  saw 
through  her,  and  laboured  to  be  friendly  with  her,  while 
she  rendered  her  disagreeable  in  the  eyes  of  Mrs.  Wishaw, 
and  let  Mrs.  Wishaw  perceive  that  sympathy  was  possible 
between  them;  —  manoeuvring  a  trifle  too  delicate,  per- 
haps, for  the  people  present,  but  sufficient  to  blind  its 
keen-witted  author  to  the  something  that  was  being  con- 
cealed from  herself,  of  which  something,  nevertheless,  her 


THE  COUNTESS   IN   LOW   SOCIETY  91 

senses  apprehensively  warned  her:  and  they  might  have 
spoken  to  her  wits,  but  that  mortals  cannot,  unaided,  guess, 
or  will  not,  unless  struck  in  the  face  by  the  fact,  credit, 
what  is  to  their  minds  the  last  horror. 

"  I  came  down  in  the  coach,  quite  accidental,  with  this 
gentleman,"  said  Mrs.  Wishaw,  fanning  a  cheek  and  nod- 
ding at  Mr.  Goren.  "  I'm  an  old  flame  of  dear  Mel's.  I 
knew  him  when  he  was  an  apprentice  in  London.  Now, 
wasn't  it  odd?  Your  mother  —  I  suppose  I  must  call  you 
'my  lady'"? 

The  Countess  breathed  a  tender  "  Spare  me,"  with  a  smile 
that  added,  "  among  friends !  " 

Mrs.  Wishaw  resumed :  "  Your  mother  was  an  old  flame 
of  this  gentleman's,  I  found  out.  So  there  were  two  old 
flames,  and  I  couldn't  help  thinking!  But  I  was  so  glad 
to  have  seen  dear  Mel  once  more." 

"Ah!  "  sighed  the  Countess. 

"  He  was  always  a  martial-looking  man,  and  laid  out,  he 
was  quite  imposing.  I  declare,  I  cried  so,  as  it  reminded 
me  of  when  I  couldn't  have  him,  for  he  had  nothing  but 
his  legs  and  arms  —  and  I  married  Wishaw.  But  it's  a 
comfort  to  think  I  have  been  of  some  service  to  dear,  dear 
Mel!  for  Wishaw's  a  man  of  accounts  and  payments,  and  I 
knew  Mel  had  cloth  from  him,  and,"  the  lady  suggested 
bills  delayed,  with  two  or  three  nods,  "  you  know !  and  I'll 
do  my  best  for  his  son." 

"You  are  kind,"  said  the  Countess,  smiling  internally  at 
the  vulgar  creature's  misconception  of  Evan's  requirements. 

"Did  he  ever  talk  much  about  Mary  Fence?"  asked  Mrs. 
Wishaw.  "'Polly  Fence,'  he  used  to  say,  'sweet  Polly 
Fence!'" 

"Oh!  I  think  so.     Frequently,"  observed  the  Countess. 

Mrs.  Fiske  primmed  her  mouth.  She  had  never  heard 
the  great  Mel  allude  to  the  name  of  Fence. 

The  Goren-croak  was  heard: 

"Painters  have  painted  out  'Melchisedec  '  this  afternoon. 
Yes,  — ah!     In  and  out  —  as  the  saying  goes." 

Here  was  an  opportunity  to  mortify  the  Countess. 

Mrs.  Fiske  placidly  remarked :  "  Have  we  the  other  put 
up  in  its  stead?     It's  shorter." 

A  twinge  of  weakness  had  made  Evan  request  that  the 


92  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

name  of  Evan  Harrington  should  not  decorate  the  shop- 
front  till  he  had  turned  his  back  on  it,  for  a  time.  Mrs. 
Mel  crushed  her  venomous  niece. 

"  What  have  you  to  do  with  such  things?  Shine  in  your 
own  affairs  first,  Ann,  before  you  meddle  with  others." 

Relieved  at  hearing  that  "  Melchisedec  "  was  painted  out, 
and  unsuspicious  of  the  announcement  that  should  replace 
it,  the  Countess  asked  Mrs.  Wishaw  if  she  thought  Evan 
like  her  dear  Papa. 

"  So  like, "  returned  the  lady,  "  that  I  would  not  be  alone 
with  him  yet,  for  worlds.  I  should  expect  him  to  be  mak- 
ing love  to  me :  for,  you  know,  my  dear  —  I  must  be  familiar 
—  Mel  never  could  be  alone  with  you,  without !  —  It  was  his 
nature.  /  speak  of  him  before  marriage.  But,  if  I  can 
trust  myself  with  him,  I  shall  take  charge  of  Mr.  Evan, 
and  show  him  some  London  society." 

"That  is  indeed  kind,"  said  the  Countess,  glad  of  a  thick 
veil  for  the  utterance  of  her  contempt.  "  Evan,  though  — 
I  fear  —  will  be  rather  engaged.  His  friends,  the  Joce- 
lyns  of  Beckley  Court,  will  —  I  fear  —  hardly  dispense 
with  him:  and  Lady  Splenders  —  you  know  her?  the 
Marchioness  of  Splenders?  No?  —  by  repute,  at  least: 
a  most  beautiful  and  most  fascinating  woman;  report 
of  him  alone  has  induced  her  to  say  that  Evan  must  and 
shall  form  a  part  of  her  autumnal  gathering  at  Splenders 
Castle.  And  how  he  is  to  get  out  of  it,  I  cannot  tell.  But, 
I  am  sure  his  multitudinous  engagements  will  not  prevent 
his  paying  due  court  to  Mistress  Wishaw." 

As  the  Countess  intended.  Mistress  Wishaw's  vanity  was 
reproved,  and  her  ambition  excited :  a  pretty  double -stroke, 
only  possible  to  dexterous  players. 

The  lady  rejoined  that  she  hoped  so,  she  was  sure;  and 
forthwith  (because  she  suddenly  seemed  to  possess  him 
more  than  his  son),  launched  upon  Mel's  incomparable 
personal  attractions.  This  caused  the  Countess  to  enlarge 
upon  Evan's  vast  personal  prospects.  They  talked  across 
each  other  a  little,  till  the  Countess  remembered  her  breed- 
ing, allowed  Mrs.  Wishaw  to  run  to  an  end  in  hollow  excla- 
mations, and  put  a  finish  to  the  undeclared  controversy,  by 
a  traverse  of  speech,  as  if  she  were  taking  up  the  most  im- 
portant subject  of  their  late  colloquy.     "But  Evan  is  not 


THE   COUNTESS   IN  LOW   SOCIETY  98 

in  his  own  hands  —  he  is  in  the  hands  of  a  lovely  young 
woman,  I  must  tell  you.  He  belongs  to  her,  and  not  to  us. 
You  have  heard  of  Rose  Jocelyn,  the  celebrated  heiress?" 

"Engaged?"  Mrs.  Wishaw  whispered  aloud. 

The  Countess,  an  adept  in  the  lie  implied  —  practised 
by  her,  that  she  might  not  subject  herself  to  future  punish- 
ment (in  which  she  was  so  devout  a  believer,  that  she  con- 
demned whole  hosts  to  it)  —  deeply  smiled. 

"  Really ! "  said  Mrs.  Wishaw,  and  was  about  to  inquire 
why  Evan,  with  these  brilliant  expectations,  could  think 
of  trade  and  tailoring,  when  the  young  man,  whose  fore- 
head had  been  growing  black,  jumped  up,  and  quitted  them ; 
thus  breaking  the  harmony  of  the  table ;  and  as  the  Countess 
had  said  enough,  she  turned  the  conversation  to  the  always 
welcome  theme  of  low  society.  She  broached  death  and 
corpses ;  and  became  extremely  interesting,  and  very  sym- 
pathetic :  the  only  difference  between  the  ghostly  anecdotes 
she  related,  and  those  of  the  other  ladies,  being  that  her 
ghosts  were  all  of  them  titled,  and  walked  mostly  under  the 
burden  of  a  coronet.  For  instance,  there  was  the  Portu- 
guese Marquis  de  Col.  He  had  married  a  Spanish  wife, 
whose  end  was  mysterious.  Undressing,  on  the  night  of 
the  anniversary  of  her  death,  and  on  the  point  of  getting 
into  bed,  he  beheld  the  dead  woman  lying  on  her  back 
before  him.  All  night  long  he  had  to  sleep  with  this 
freezing  phantom!  Regularly,  every  fresh  anniversary,  he 
had  to  endure  the  same  penance,  no  matter  where  he  might 
be,  or  in  what  strange  bed.  On  one  occasion,  when  he 
took  the  live  for  the  dead,  a  curious  thing  occurred,  which 
the  Countess  scrupled  less  to  relate  than  would  men  to  hint 
at.  Ghosts  were  the  one  childish  enjoyment  Mrs.  Mel 
allowed  herself,  and  she  listened  to  her  daughter  intently, 
ready  to  cap  any  narrative;  but  Mrs.  Fiske  stopped  the 
flood. 

"You  have  improved  on  Peter  Smithers,  Louisa,"  she 
said. 

The  Countess  turned  to  her  mildly. 

"You  are  certainly  thinking  of  Peter  Smithers,"  Mrs. 
Fiske  continued,  bracing  her  shoulders.  "Surely,  you  re- 
member poor  Peter,  Louisa  ?  An  old  flame  of  your  own ! 
He  was  going  to  kill  himself,  but  married  a  Devonshire 


94  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

woman,  and  they  had  disagreeables,  and  she  died,  and  he 
was  undressing,  and  saw  her  there  in  the  bed,  and  wouldn't 
get  into  it,  and  had  the  mattress,  and  the  curtains,  and  the 
counterpanes,  and  everything  burnt.  He  told  us  it  himself. 
You  must  remember  it,  Louisa  ?  " 

The  Countess  remembered  nothing  of  the  sort.  No  doubt 
could  exist  of  its  having  been  the  Portuguese  Marquis  de 
Col,  because  he  had  confided  to  her  the  whole  affair,  and 
indeed  come  to  her,  as  his  habit  was,  to  ask  her  what  he 
could  possibly  do,  under  the  circumstances.  If  Mrs.  Fiske's 
friend,  who  married  the  Devonshire  person,  had  seen  the 
same  thing,  the  coincidence  was  yet  more  extraordinary 
than  the  case.  Mrs.  Fiske  said  it  assuredly  was,  and 
glanced  at  her  aunt,  who,  as  the  Countess  now  rose,  declar- 
ing she  must  speak  to  Evan,  chid  Mrs.  Fiske,  and  wished 
her  and  Peter  Smithers  at  the  bottom  of  the  sea. 

"No,  no,  Mama,"  said  the  Countess,  laughing,  "that 
would  hardly  be  proper,"  and  before  Mrs.  Fiske  could  re- 
ply, escaped  to  complain  to  Evan  of  the  vulgarity  of  those 
women. 

She  was  not  prepared  for  the  burst  of  wrath  with  which 
Evan  met  her. 

"Louisa,"  said  he,  taking  her  wrist  sternly,  "you  have 
done  a  thing  I  can't  forgive.  I  find  it  hard  to  bear  dis- 
grace myself:  I  will  not  consent  to  bring  it  upon  others. 
Why  did  you  dare  to  couple  Miss  Jocelyn's  name  with 
mine  ?  " 

The  Countess  gave  him  out  her  arm's  length.  "Speak 
on,  Van,"  she  said,  admiring  him  with  a  bright  gaze. 

"  Answer  me,  Louisa ;  and  don't  take  me  for  a  fool  any 
more,"  he  pursued.  "You  have  coupled  Miss  Jocelyn's 
name  with  mine,  in  company,  and  I  insist  now  upon  your 
giving  me  your  promise  to  abstain  from  doing  it  anywhere, 
before  anybody." 

"If  she  saw  you  at  this  instant.  Van,"  returned  the  in- 
corrigible Countess,  "  would  she  desire  it,  think  you  ?  Oh ! 
I  must  make  you  angry  before  her,  I  see  that !  You  have 
your  father's  frown.  You  surpass  him,  for  your  delivery 
is  more  correct,  and  equally  fluent.  And  if  a  woman  is 
momentarily  melted  by  softness  in  a  man,  she  is  for  ever 
subdued  by  boldness  and  braverj  of  mien." 


THE   COUNTESS   IN  LOW  SOCIETY  96 

Evan  dropped  her  hand.  "Miss  Jocelyn  has  done  me 
the  honour  to  call  me  her  friend.  That  was  in  other  days." 
His  lip  quivered.  "I  shall  not  see  Miss  Jocelyn  again. 
Yes;  I  would  lay  down  my  life  for  her;  but  that's  idle 
talk.  No  such  chance  will  ever  come  to  me.  But  I  can 
save  her  from  being  spoken  of  in  alliance  with  me,  and 
what  I  am,  and  I  tell  you,  Louisa,  I  will  not  have  it." 
Saying  which,  and  while  he  looked  harshly  at  her,  wounded 
pride  bled  through  his  eyes. 

She  was  touched.  "Sit  down,  dear;  I  must  explain  to 
you,  and  make  you  happy  against  your  will,"  she  said,  in 
another  voice,  and  an  English  accent.  "The  mischief  is 
done,  Van.  If  you  do  not  want  Rose  Jocelyn  to  love  you, 
you  must  undo  it  in  your  own  way.  I  am  not  easily  de- 
ceived. On  the  morning  I  went  to  her  house  in  town,  she 
took  me  aside,  and  spoke  to  me.  Not  a  confession  in  words. 
The  blood  in  her  cheeks,  when  I  mentioned  you,  did  that 
for  her.  Everything  about  you  she  must  know  —  how  you 
bore  your  grief,  and  all.  And  not  in  her  usual  free  manner, 
but  timidly,  as  if  she  feared  a  surprise,  or  feared  to  be 
wakened  to  the  secret  in  her  bosom  she  half  suspects  — 
*  Tell  him ! '  she  said,  *  I  hope  he  will  not  forget  me.' " 

The  Countess  was  interrupted  by  a  great  sob;  for  the 
picture  of  frank  Rose  Jocelyn  changed,  and  soft,  and,  as  it 
were,  shadowed  under  a  veil  of  bashful  regard  for  him,  so 
filled  the  young  man  with  sorrowful  tenderness,  that  he 
trembled,  and  was  as  a  child. 

Marking  the  impression  she  had  produced  on  him,  and 
having  worn  off  that  which  he  had  produced  on  her,  the 
Countess  resiimed  the  art  in  her  style  of  speech,  easier  to 
her  than  nature. 

"  So  the  sweetest  of  Roses  may  be  yours,  dear  Van ;  and 
you  have  her  in  a  gold  setting,  to  wear  on  your  heart.  Are 
you  not  enviable  ?  I  will  not  —  no,  I  will  not  tell  you  she 
is  perfect.  I  must  fashion  the  sweet  young  creature.  Though 
I  am  very  ready  to  admit  that  she  is  much  improved  by  this 
—  shall  I  call  it,  desired  consummation  ?  " 

Evan  coiJd  listen  no  more.  Such  a  struggle  was  rising  in 
his  breast :  the  effort  to  quench  what  the  Countess  had  so 
shrewdly  kindled ;  passionate  desire  to  look  on  Rose  but 
for  one  lightning  flash :  desire  to  look  on  her,  and  muffled 


96  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

sense  of  shame  twin-born  with  it;  wild  love  and  leaden 
misery  mixed:  dead  hopelessness  and  vivid  hope.  Up  to 
the  neck  in  Purgatory,  but  his  soul  saturated  with  visions 
of  Bliss  !  The  fair  orb  of  Love  was  all  that  was  wanted  to 
complete  his  planetary  state,  and  aloft  it  sprang,  showing 
many  faint,  fair  tracts  to  him,  and  piling  huge  darknesses. 

As  if  in  search  of  something,  he  suddenly  went  from  the 
room. 

"  I  have  intoxicated  the  poor  boy,"  said  the  Countess,  and 
consulted  an  attitude  by  the  evening  light  in  a  mirror.  Ap- 
proving the  result,  she  rang  for  her  mother,  and  sat  with 
her  till  dark ;  telling  her  she  could  not  and  would  not  leave 
her  dear  Mama  that  night.  At  the  supper-table  Evan  did 
not  appear,  and  Mr.  Goren,  after  taking  counsel  of  Mrs.  Mel, 
dispersed  the  news  that  Evan  was  off  to  London.  On  the 
road  again,  with  a  purse  just  as  ill-furnished,  and  in  his 
breast  the  light  that  sometimes  leads  gentlemen,  as  well  as 
ladies,  astray. 


CHAPTER  X 

MT   GENTLEMAN   ON   THE  ROAD   AGAIN 

Near  a  milestone,  under  the  moonlight,  crouched  the 
figure  of  a  woman,  huddled  with  her  head  against  her  knees, 
and  careless  hair  falling  to  the  summer's  dust.  Evan  came 
upon  this  sight  within  a  few  miles  of  Fallowfield.  At  first 
he  was  rather  startled,  for  he  had  inherited  superstitious 
emotions  from  his  mother,  and  the  road  was  lone,  the  moon 
full.  He  went  up  to  her  and  spoke  a  gentle  word,  which 
provoked  no  reply.  He  ventured  to  put  his  hand  on  her 
shoulder,  continuing  softly  to  address  her.  She  was  flesh 
and  blood.  Evan  stooped  his  head  to  catch  a  whisper  from 
her  mouth,  but  nothing  save  a  heavier  fall  of  the  breath  she 
took,  as  of  one  painfully  waking,  was  heard. 

A  misery  beyond  our  own  is  a  wholesome  picture  for 
youth,  and  though  we  may  not  for  the  moment  compare  the 
deep  with  the  lower  deep,  we,  if  we  have  a  heart  for  outer 
sorrows,  can  forget  ourselves  in  it.     Evan  had  just  been 


MY  GENTLEMAN  ON  THE  ROAD  AGAIN     97 

accusing  the  heavens  of  conspiracy  to  disgrace  him.  Those 
patient  heavens  had  listened,  as  is  their  wont.  They  had 
viewed  and  had  not  been  disordered  by  his  mental  frenzies. 
It  is  certainly  hard  that  they  do  not  come  down  to  us,  and 
condescend  to  tell  us  what  they  mean,  and  be  dumb-foun- 
dered by  the  perspicuity  of  our  arguments  —  the  argument, 
for  instance,  that  they  have  not  fashioned  us  for  the  science 
of  the  shears,  and  do  yet  impel  us  to  wield  them.  Never- 
theless, they  to  whom  mortal  life  has  ceased  to  be  a  long 
matter  perceive  that  our  appeals  for  conviction  are  answered, 
—  now  and  then  very  closely  upon  the  call.  When  we  have 
cast  off  the  scales  of  hope  and  fancy,  and  surrender  our 
claims  on  mad  chance,  it  is  given  us  to  see  that  some  plan 
is  working  out :  that  the  heavens,  icy  as  they  are  to  the 
pangs  of  our  blood,  have  been  throughout  speaking  to  our 
souls;  and,  according  to  the  strength  there  existing,  we 
learn  to  comprehend  them.  But  their  language  is  an  ele- 
ment of  Time,  whom  primarily  we  have  to  know. 

Evan  Harrington  was  young.  He  wished  not  to  clothe 
the  generation.  What  was  to  the  remainder  of  the  exiled 
sons  of  Adam  simply  the  brand  of  expulsion  from  Paradise, 
was  to  him  hell.  In  his  agony,  anything  less  than  an  angel, 
soft-voiced  in  his  path,  would  not  have  satisfied  the  poor 
boy,  and  here  was  this  wretched  outcast,  and  instead  of 
being  relieved,  he  was  to  act  the  reliever ! 

Striving  to  rouse  the  desolate  creature,  he  shook  her 
slightly.  She  now  raised  her  head  with  a  slow,  gradual 
motion,  like  that  of  a  wax-work,  showing  a  white  young  face, 
tearless,  —  dreadfully  drawn  at  the  lips.  After  gazing  at 
him,  she  turned  her  head  mechanically  to  her  shoulder,  as 
to  ask  him  why  he  touched  her.  He  withdrew  his  hand, 
saying : 

"  Why  are  you  here  ?  Pardon  me ;  I  want,  if  possible,  to 
help  you." 

A  light  sprang  in  her  eyes.  She  jumped  from  the  stone, 
and  ran  forward  a  step  or  two,  with  a  gasp : 

"  Oh,  my  God !     I  want  to  go  and  drown  myself." 

Evan  lingered  behind  her  till  he  saw  her  body  sway,  and 
in  a  fit  of  trembling  she  half  fell  on  his  outstretched  arm. 
He  led  her  to  the  stone,  not  knowing  what  on  earth  to  do 
with  her.    There  was  no  sign  of  a  house  near ;  they  were 


98  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

quite  solitary ;  to  all  his  questions  she  gave  an  unintelligible 
moan.  He  had  not  the  heart  to  leave  her,  so,  taking  a  sharp 
seat  on  a  heap  of  flints,  thus  possibly  furnishing  future 
occupation  for  one  of  his  craftsmen,  he  waited,  and  amused 
himself  by  marking  out  diagrams  with  his  stick  in  the  thick 
dust. 

His  thoughts  were  far  away,  when  he  heard,  faintly 
uttered : 

"  Why  do  you  stop  here  ?  " 

«  To  help  you." 

"  Please  don't.     Let  me  be.     I  can't  be  helped." 

"My  good  creature,"  said  Evan,  "it's  quite  impossible 
that  I  should  leave  you  in  this  state.  Tell  me  where  you 
were  going  when  your  illness  seized  you  ?  " 

"  I  was  going,"  she  commenced  vacantly,  "  to  the  sea  — 
the  water,"  she  added,  with  a  shivering  lip. 

The  foolish  youth  asked  her  if  she  could  be  cold  on  such 
a  night. 

"  No,  I'm  not  cold,"  she  replied,  drawing  closer  over  her 
lap  the  ends  of  a  shawl  which  would  in  that  period  have 
been  thought  rather  gaudy  for  her  station. 

"  You  were  going  to  Lymport  ?  " 

"  Yes,  —  Lymport's  nearest,  I  think." 

"  And  why  were  you  out  travelling  at  this  hour  ?  " 

She  dropped  her  head,  and  began  rocking  to  right  and  left. 

While  they  talked  the  noise  of  waggon-wheels  was  heard 
approaching.  Evan  went  into  the  middle  of  the  road,  and 
beheld  a  covered  waggon,  and  a  fellow  whom  he  advanced  to 
meet,  plodding  a  little  to  the  rear  of  the  horses.  He  proved 
kindly.  He  was  a  farmer's  man,  he  said,  and  was  at  that 
moment  employed  in  removing  the  furniture  of  the  farmer's 
son,  who  had  failed  as  a  corn-chandler  in  Lymport,  to  Hill- 
ford,  which  he  expected  to  reach  about  morn.  He  answered 
Evan's  request  that  he  would  afford  the  young  woman  con- 
veyance as  far  as  Fallowfield : 

"  Tak'  her  in  ?    That  I  will." 

"She  won't  hurt  the  harses,"  he  pursued,  pointing  his 
whip  at  the  vehicle:  "there's  my  mate,  Gearge  Stoakes, 
he's  in  there,  snorin'  his  turn.  Can't  you  hear'n  a-snorin' 
thraugh  the  wheels  ?  I  can ;  I've  been  laughin' !  He  do 
snore  that  loud  —  Gearge  do !  " 


MY  GENTLEMAN  ON  THE  ROAD  AGAIN  99 

Proceeding  to  inform  Evan  how  George  Stokes  had  snored 
in  that  characteristic  manner  from  boyhood,  ever  since  he 
and  George  had  slept  in  a  hayloft  together ;  and  how  he, 
kept  wakeful  and  driven  to  distraction  by  George  Stokes' 
nose,  had  been  occasionally  compelled,  in  sheer  self-defence, 
madly  to  start  up  and  hold  that  pertinacious  alarum  in  tight 
compression  between  thumb  and  forefinger ;  and  how  George 
Stokes,  thus  severely  handled,  had  burst  his  hold  with  a 
tremendous  snort,  as  big  as  a  bull,  and  had  invariably 
uttered  the  exclamation,  "  Hulloa !  —  same  to  you,  my  lad ! " 
and  rolled  over  to  snore  as  fresh  as  ever ;  —  all  this  with 
singular  rustic  comparisons,  racy  of  the  soil,  and  in  raw 
Hampshire  dialect,  the  waggoner  came  to  a  halt  opposite  the 
stone,  and,  while  Evan  strove  to  assist  the  girl,  addressed 
himself  to  the  great  task  of  arousing  the  sturdy  sleeper  and 
quieting  his  trumpet,  heard  by  all  ears  now  that  the  accom- 
paniment of  the  wheels  was  at  an  end. 

George,  violently  awakened,  complained  that  it  was  before 
his  time,  to  which  he  was  true ;  and  was  for  going  off  again 
with  exalted  contentment,  though  his  heels  had  been  tugged, 
and  were  dangling  some  length  out  of  the  machine ;  but  his 
comrade,  with  a  determined  blow  of  the  lungs,  gave  another 
valiant  pull,  and  George  Stokes  was  on  his  legs,  marvelling 
at  the  world  and  man,  Evan  had  less  difficulty  with  the 
girl.  She  rose  to  meet  him,  put  up  her  arms  for  him  to 
clasp  her  waist,  whispering  sharply  in  an  inward  breath: 
"  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me  ?  "  and  indifferent  to 
his  verbal  response,  trustingly  yielded  her  limbs  to  his 
guidance.  He  could  see  blood  on  her  bitten  underlip,  as, 
with  the  help  of  the  waggoner,  he  lifted  her  on  the  mattress, 
backed  by  a  portly  bundle,  which  the  sagacity  of  Mr.  Stokes 
had  selected  for  his  couch. 

The  waggoner  cracked  his  whip,  laughing  at  George 
Stokes,  who  yawned  and  settled  into  a  composed  plough- 
swing,  without  asking  questions ;  apparently  resolved  to 
finish  his  nap  on  his  legs. 

"  Warn't  he  like  that  Myzepper  chap,  I  see  at  the  circus, 
bound  athert  grey  mare !  "  chuckled  the  waggoner.  "  So 
he'd  'a  gone  on,  had  ye  'a  let'n.  No  wulves  waddn't  wake 
Gearge  till  he'd  slept  it  out.  Then  he'd  say,  *  marniu' ! ' 
to  'm.     Are  ye  'wake  now,  Gearge  ?  " 


100  EVAN   HARRDTGTON 

The  admirable  sleeper  preferred  to  be  a  quiet  butt,  and 
the  waggoner  leisurely  exhausted  the  fun  that  was  to  be 
had  out  of  hiiD  ;  returning  to  it  with  a  persistency  that 
evinced  more  concentration  than  variety  in  his  mind.  At 
last  Evan  said :  "  Your  pace  is  rather  slow.  They'll  be  shut 
up  in  Fallowfield.  I'll  go  on  ahead.  You'll  find  me  at  one 
of  the  inns  —  the  Green  Dragon." 

In  return  for  this  speech,  the  waggoner  favoured  him  with 
a  stare,  followed  by  the  exclamation : 

"  Oh,  no !  dang  that !  " 

"  Why,  what's  the  matter  ?  "  quoth  Evan. 

"  You  en't  goin'  to  be  off,  for  to  leave  me  and  Gearge  in 
the  lurch  there,  with  that  ther'  young  woman,  in  that  ther' 
pickle ! "  returned  the  waggoner. 

Evan  made  an  appeal  to  his  reason,  but  finding  that  im- 
pregnable, he  pulled  out  his  scanty  purse  to  guarantee  his 
sincerity  with  an  offer  of  pledge-money.  The  waggoner 
waved  it  aside.     He  wanted  no  money,  he  said. 

" Look  heer,"  he  went  on ;  "if  you're  for  a  start,  I  tells 
ye  plain,  I  chucks  that  ther'  young  woman  int'  the  road." 

Evan  bade  him  not  to  be  a  brute. 

"  Nack  and  crop ! "  the  waggoner  doggedly  ejaculated. 

Very  much  surprised  that  a  fellow  who  appeared  sound  at 
heart,  should  threaten  to  behave  so  basely,  Evan  asked  an 
explanation :  upon  which  the  waggoner  demanded  to  know 
what  he  had  eyes  for :  and  as  this  query  failed  to  enlighten 
the  youth,  he  let  him  understand  that  he  was  a  man  of 
family  experience,  and  that  it  was  easy  to  tell  at  a  glance 
that  the  complaint  the  young  woman  laboured  under  was  one 
common  to  the  daughters  of  Eve.  He  added  that,  should  an 
emergency  arise,  he,  though  a  family  man,  would  be  useless  : 
that  he  always  vacated  the  premises  while  those  incidental 
scenes  were  being  enacted  at  home ;  and  that  for  him  and 
George  Stokes  to  be  left  alone  with  the  young  woman,  why 
they  would  be  of  no  more  service  to  her  than  a  couple  of 
babies  new-bom  themselves.  He,  for  his  part,  he  assured 
Evan,  should  take  to  his  heels,  and  relinquish  waggon,  and 
horses,  and  all;  while  George  probably  would  stand  and 
gape ;  and  the  end  of  it  would  be,  they  would  all  be  had  up 
for  murder.  He  diverged  from  the  alarming  prospect,  by  a 
renewal  of  the  foregoing  alternative  to  the  gentleman  who 


MY   GENTLEMAN   ON  THE  BOAD   AGAIN  101 

had  constituted  himself  the  young  woman's  protector.  If 
he  parted  company  with  them,  they  would  immediately 
part  company  with  the  young  woman,  whose  condition  was 
evident. 

"  Why,  couldn't  you  tall  that  ? "  said  the  waggoner,  as 
Evan,  tingling  at  the  ears,  remained  silent. 

"  /  know  nothing  of  such  things,"  he  answered,  hastily, 
like  one  hurt. 

I  have  to  repeat  the  statement,  that  he  was  a  youth,  and 
a  modest  one.  He  felt  unaccountably,  unreasonably,  but  hor- 
ribly, ashamed.  The  thought  of  his  actual  position  swamped 
the  sickening  disgust  at  tailordom.  Worse,  then,  might 
happen  to  us  in  this  extraordinary  world !  There  was  some- 
thing more  abhorrent  than  sitting  with  one's  legs  crossed, 
publicly  stitching,  and  scoffed  at !  He  called  vehemently  to 
the  waggoner  to  whip  the  horses,  and  hurry  ahead  into 
Fallowfield;  but  that  worthy,  whatever  might  be  his  dire 
alarms,  had  a  regular  pace,  that  was  conscious  of  no  spur : 
the  reply  of  "  All  right ! "  satisfied  him  at  least ;  and  Evan's 
chaste  sighs  for  the  appearance  of  an  assistant  petticoat 
round  a  turn  of  the  road,  were  offered  up  duly,  to  the  meas- 
ure of  the  waggoner's  steps. 

Suddenly  the  waggoner  came  to  a  halt,  and  said :  "  Blest 
if  that  Gearge  bain't  a  snorin'  on  his  pins  ! " 

Evan  lingered  by  him  with  some  curiosity,  while  the 
waggoner  thumped  his  thigh  to,  "  Yes  he  be !  no  he  bain't ! " 
several  times,  in  eager  hesitation. 

"  It's  a  fellow  calling  from  the  downs,"  said  Evan. 

"  Ay,  so !  "  responded  the  waggoner.  "  Dang'd  if  I  didn't 
think  'twere  that  Gearge  of  our'n.     Hark  awhile." 

At  a  repetition  of  the  call,  the  waggoner  stopped  his 
team.  After  a  few  minutes,  a  man  appeared  panting  on  the 
bank  above  them,  down  which  he  ran  precipitately,  knocked 
against  Evan,  apologized  with  the  little  breath  that  remained 
to  him,  and  then  held  his  hand  as  to  entreat  a  hearing. 
Evan  thought  him  half-mad;  the  waggoner  was  about  to 
imagine  him  the  victim  of  a  midnight  assault.  He  unde- 
ceived them  by  requesting,  in  rather  flowery  terms,  convey- 
ance on  the  road  and  rest  for  his  limbs.  It  being  explained 
to  him  that  the  waggon  was  already  occupied,  he  comforted 
himself  aloud  with  the  reflection  that  it  was  something  to 


102  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

be  on  the  road  again  for  one  who  had  been  belated,  lost,  and 
wandering  over  the  downs  for  the  last  six  hours. 

"  Walcome  to  git  in,  when  young  woman  gits  out,"  said 
the  waggoner.     "  I'll  gi'  ye  my  sleep  on  t'  Hillf ord." 

"  Thanks,  worthy  friend,"  returned  the  new  comer.  "  The 
state  of  the  case  is  this  —  I'm  happy  to  take  from  human- 
kind whatsoever  I  can  get.  If  this  gentleman  will  accept  of 
my  company,  and  my  legs  hold  out,  all  will  yet  be  well." 

Though  he  did  not  wear  a  petticoat,  Evan  was  not  sorry 
to  have  him.  Next  to  the  interposition  of  the  Gods,  we 
pray  for  human  fellowship  when  we  are  in  a  mess.  So  he 
mumbled  politely,  dropped  with  him  a  little  to  the  rear,  and 
they  all  stepped  out  to  the  crack  of  the  waggoner's  whip. 

"  Rather  a  slow  pace,"  said  Evan,  feeling  bound  to  con- 
verse. 

"  Six  hours  on  the  downs  makes  it  extremely  suitable  to 
me,"  rejoined  the  stranger. 

"  You  lost  your  way  ?  " 

"  I  did,  sir.  Yes ;  one  does  not  court  those  desolate  re- 
gions wittingly.  I  am  for  life  and  society.  The  embraces 
of  Diana  do  not  agree  with  my  constitution.  If  classics 
there  be  who  differ  from  me,  I  beg  them  to  take  six  hours 
on  the  downs  alone  with  the  moon,  and  the  last  prospect  of 
bread  and  cheese,  and  a  chaste  bed,  seemingly  utterly  ex- 
tinguished. I  am  cured  of  my  romance.  Of  course,  when 
I  say  bread  and  cheese,  I  speak  figuratively.  Food  is  im- 
plied." 

Evan  stole  a  glance  at  his  companion. 

"  Besides,"  the  other  continued,  with  an  inflexion  of  gran- 
deur, "  for  a  man  accustomed  to  his  hunters,  it  is,  you  will 
confess,  unpleasant — I  speak  hypothetically  —  to  be  reduced 
to  his  legs  to  that  extent  that  it  strikes  him  shrewdly  he 
will  run  them  into  stumps. 

The  stranger  laughed. 

The  fair  lady  of  the  night  illumined  his  face,  like  one 
who  recognized  a  subject.  Evan  thought  he  knew  the 
voice.  A  curious  struggle  therein  between  native  facetious- 
ness  and  an  attempt  at  dignity,  appeared  to  Evan  not 
unfamiliar;  and  the  egregious  failure  of  ambition  and  tri- 
umph of  the  instinct,  helped  him  to  join  the  stranger  in 
his  mirth. 


MY  GENTLEMAN  ON  THE  ROAD  AGAIN    103 

"JackRaikes?"  he  said:  "surely?" 

"The  man!"  it  was  answered  to  him,  "But  you?  — 
and  near  our  old  school  —  Viscount  Harrington?  These 
marvels  occur,  you  see  —  we  meet  again  by  night." 

Evan,  with  little  gratification  at  the  meeting,  fell  into 
their  former  comradeship ;  tickled  by  a  recollection  of  his 
old  schoolfellow's  india-rubber  mind. 

Mr.  Raikes  stood  about  a  head  under  him.  He  had  ex- 
tremely mobile  features;  thick,  flexible  eyebrows;  a  loose, 
voluble  mouth ;  a  ridiculous  figure  on  a  dandified  foot.  He 
represented  to  you  one  who  was  rehearsing  a  part  he  wished 
to  act  before  the  world,  and  was  not  aware  that  he  took  the 
world  into  his  confidence. 

How  he  had  come  there  his  elastic  tongue  explained  in 
tropes  and  puns  and  lines  of  dramatic  verse.  His  patri- 
mony spent,  he  at  once  believed  himself  an  actor,  and  he 
was  hissed  off  the  stage  of  a  provincial  theatre. 

"  Ruined,  the  last  ignominy  endured,  I  fled  from  the  gay 
vistas  of  the  Bench  —  for  they  live  who  would  thither  lead 
me!  and  determined,  the  day  before  the  yesterday  —  what 
think'st  thou?  why  to  go  boldly,  and  offer  myself  as  Adla- 
tus  to  blessed  old  Cudford!  Yes!  a  little  Latin  is  all  that 
remains  to  me,  and  I  resolved,  like  the  man  I  am,  tg  turn, 
hie,  hcec,  hoc,  into  bread  and  cheese,  and  beer.  Impute 
naught  foreign  to  me,  in  the  matter  of  pride." 

"  Usher  in  our  old  school  —  poor  old  Jack !  "  exclaimed 
Evan. 

"  Lieutenant  in  the  Cudford  Academy ! "  the  latter  re- 
joined. "  I  walked  the  distance  from  London.  I  had  my 
interview  with  the  respected  principal.  He  gave  me  of 
mutton  nearest  the  bone,  which,  they  say,  is  sweetest;  and 
on  sweet  things  you  should  not  regale  in  excess.  Endym- 
ion  watched  the  sheep  that  bred  that  mutton!  He  gave 
me  the  thin  beer  of  our  boyhood,  that  I  might  the  more 
soberly  state  my  mission.  That  beer,  my  friend,  was 
brewed  by  one  who  wished  to  form  a  study  for  pantomimic 
masks.  He  listened  with  the  gravity  which  is  all  his  own 
to  the  recital  of  my  career;  he  pleasantly  compared  me  to 
Phaethon,  congratulated  the  river  Thames  at  my  not  setting 
it  on  fire  in  my  rapid  descent,  and  extended  to  me  the  three 
fingers  of  affectionate  farewell.     *  You  an  usher,  a  rearer  of 


104  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

youth,  Mr.  Raikes?  Oh,  no!  Oh,  no!'  That  was  all  I 
could  get  out  of  him.  'Gad!  he  might  have  seen  that  I 
didn't  joke  with  the  mutton-bone.  If  I  winced  at  the  beer 
it  was  imperceptible.  Now  a  man  who  can  do  that  is  what 
I  call  a  man  in  earnest." 

"  You've  just  come  from  Cudford?  "  said  Evan. 

"  Short  is  the  tale,  though  long  the  way,  friend  Harring- 
ton. From  Bodley  is  ten  miles  to  Beckley.  I  walked 
them.  From  Beckley  is  fifteen  miles  to  Fallowfield. 
Them  I  was  traversing,  when,  lo!  near  sweet  eventide  a 
fair  horsewoman  riding  with  her  groom  at  her  horse's 
heels.  'Lady,'  says  I,  addressing  her,  as  much  out  of  the 
style  of  the  needy  as  possible,  'will  you  condescend  to 
direct  me  to  Fallowfield? '  'Are  you  going  to  the  match? ' 
says  she.  I  answered  boldly  that  I  was.  'Beckley's  in,' 
says  she,  'and  you'll  be  in  time  to  see  them  out,  if  you  cut 
across  the  downs  there.'  I  lifted  my  hat  —  a  desperate 
measure,  for  the  brim  won't  bear  much  —  but  honour  to 
women  though  we  perish.  She  bowed:  I  cut  across  the 
downs.  In  fine,  Harrington,  old  boy,  I've  been  wandering 
among  those  downs  for  the  last  seven  or  eight  hours,  I 
was  on  the  point  of  turning  my  back  on  the  road  for  the 
twentieth  time,  I  believe  —  when  I  heard  your  welcome 
vehicular  music,  and  hailed  you;  and  I  ask  you,  isn't  it 
luck  for  a  fellow  who  hasn't  got  a  penny  in  his  pocket,  and 
is  as  hungry  as  five  hundred  hunters,  to  drop  on  an  old 
friend  like  this?" 

Evan  answered  with  the  question : 

"Where  was  it  you  said  you  met  the  young  lady? " 

"In  the  first  place,  0  Amadis!  I  never  said  she  was 
young.     You're  on  the  scent,  I  see." 

Nursing  the  fresh  image  of  his  darling  in  his  heart's 
recesses,  Evan,  as  they  entered  Fallowfield,  laid  the  state 
of  his  purse  before  Jack,  and  earned  anew  the  epithet  of 
Amadis,  when  it  came  to  be  told  that  the  occupant  of  the 
waggon  was  likewise  one  of  its  pensioners. 

Sleep  had  long  held  its  reign  in  Fallowfield.  Neverthe- 
less, Mr.  Raikes,  though  blind  windows  alone  looked  on 
him,  and  naught  foreign  was  to  be  imputed  to  him  in  tlie 
matter  of  pride,  had  become  exceedingly  solicitous  concern- 
ing his  presentation  to  the  inhabitants  of  that  quiet  little 


DOmGS  AT  AN  INN  105 

country  town ;  and  while  Evan  and  the  waggoner  consulted 
—  the  former  with  regard  to  the  chances  of  procuring  beds 
and  supper,  the  latter  as  to  his  prospect  of  beer  and  a  com- 
fortable riddance  of  the  feminine  burden  weighing  on  them 
all  —  Mr.  Raikes  was  engaged  in  persuading  his  hat  to 
assume  something  of  the  gentlemanly  polish  of  its  youth, 
and  might  have  been  observed  now  and  then  furtively  catch- 
ing up  a  leg  to  be  dusted.  Ere  the  wheels  of  the  waggon 
stopped  he  had  gained  that  ease  of  mind  which  the  know- 
ledge that  you  have  done  all  a  man  may  do  and  circum- 
stances warrant,  establishes.  Capacities  conscious  of  their 
limits  may  repose  even  proudly  when  they  reach  them; 
and,  if  Mr.  Raikes  had  not  quite  the  air  of  one  come  out  of 
a  bandbox,  he  at  least  proved  to  the  discerning  intelligence 
that  he  knew  what  sort  of  manner  befitted  that  happy  occa- 
sion, and  was  enabled  by  the  pains  he  had  taken  to  glance 
with  a  challenge  at  the  sign  of  the  hostelry,  under  which 
they  were  now  ranked,  and  from  which,  though  the  hour 
was  late,  and  Fallowfield  a  singularly  somnolent  little  town, 
there  issued  signs  of  life  approaching  to  festivity. 


CHAPTEE  XI 

DOINGS   AT   AN   INN 


What  every  traveller  sighs  to  find,  was  palatably  fur- 
nished by  the  Green  Dragon  of  Fallowfield  —  a  famous  inn, 
and  a  constellation  for  wandering  coachmen.  There  pleas- 
ant smiles  seasoned  plenty,  and  the  bill  was  gilded  in  a 
manner  unknown  to  our  days.  Whoso  drank  of  the  ale  of 
the  Green  Dragon  kept  in  his  memory  a  place  apart  for  it. 
The  secret,  that  to  give  a  warm  welcome  is  the  breath  of 
life  to  an  inn,  was  one  the  Green  Dragon  boasted,  even 
then,  not  to  share  with  many  Red  Lions,  or  Cocks  of  the 
Morning,  or  Kings'  Heads,  or  other  fabulous  monsters ;  and 
as  if  to  show  that  when  you  are  in  the  right  track  you  are 
sure  to  be  seconded,  there  was  a  friend  o'f  the  Green  Dragon, 
who,  on  a  particular  night  of  the  year,  caused  its  renown 


106  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

to  enlarge  to  the  dimensions  of  a  miracle.  But  that,  for 
the  moment,  is  my  secret. 

Evan  and  Jack  were  met  in  the  passage  by  a  chamber- 
maid. Before  either  of  them  coald  speak,  she  had  turned 
and  fled,  with  the  words : 

"  More  coming !  "  which,  with  the  addition  of  "  My  good- 
ness me!  "  were  echoed  by  the  hostess  in  her  recess.  Hur- 
ried directions  seemed  to  be  consequent,  and  then  the  hostess 
sallied  out,  and  said,  with  a  curtsey : 

"Please  to  step  in,  gentlemen.  This  is  the  room,  to- 
night." 

Evan  lifted  his  hat;  and  bowing,  requested  to  know 
whether  they  could  have  a  supper  and  beds. 

"  Beds,  sir !  "  cried  the  hostess.  "  What  am  I  to  do  for 
beds!  Yes,  beds  indeed  you  may  have,  but  bed-rooms  —  if 
you  ask  for  them,  it  really  is  more  than  I  can  supply  you 
with.  I  have  given  up  my  own.  I  sleep  with  my  maid 
Jane  to-night." 

"  Anything  will  do  for  us,  madam,"  replied  Evan,  renew- 
ing his  foreign  courtesy.  "  But  there  is  a  poor  young  woman 
outside." 

"  Another ! "  The  hostess  instantly  smiled  down  her  in- 
hospitable outcry. 

"  She,"  said  Evan,  "  must  have  a  room  to  herself.  She  is 
ill." 

"  Must  is  must,  sir,"  returned  the  gracious  hostess.  "  But 
I  really  haven't  the  means." 

"  You  have  bed-rooms,  madam  ?  " 

"  Every  one  of  them  engaged,  sir." 

"  By  ladies,  madam  ?  " 

"  Lord  forbid,  sir ! "  she  exclaimed  with  the  honest  energy 
of  a  woman  who  knew  her  sex. 

Evan  bade  Jack  go  and  assist  the  waggoner  to  bring  in 
the  girl.  Jack,  who  had  been  all  the  time  pulling  at  his 
wristbands,  and  settling  his  coat-collar  by  the  dim  reflection 
of  a  window  of  the  bar,  departed,  after,  on  his  own  author- 
ity, assuring  the  hostess  that  fever  was  not  the  young 
woman's  malady,  as  she  protested  against  admitting  fever 
into  her  house,  seeing  that  she  had  to  consider  her  guests. 

"  We're  open  to  all  the  world  to-night,  except  fever,"  said 
the  hostess.     "Yes,"  she  rejoined  to  Evan's  order  that  the 


DOINGS   AT   AN  INTST  107 

waggoner  and  his  mate  should  be  supplied  with  ale,  "they 
shall  have  as  much  as  they  can  drink,"  which  is  not  a  speech 
usual  at  inns,  when  one  man  gives  an  order  for  others,  but 
Evan  passed  it  by,  and  politely  begged  to  be  shown  in  to 
one  of  the  gentlemen  who  had  engaged  bed-rooms. 

"  Oh !  if  you  can  persuade  any  of  them,  sir,  I'm  sure  I've 
nothing  to  say,"  observed  the  hostess.  "  Pray,  don't  ask  me 
to  stand  by  and  back  it,  that's  all." 

Had  Evan  been  familiar  with  the  Green  Dragon,  he  would 
have  noticed  that  the  landlady,  its  presiding  genius,  was 
stiff er  than  usual ;  the  rosy  smile  was  more  constrained,  as 
if  a  great  host  had  to  be  embraced,  and  were  trying  it  to  the 
utmost  stretch.  There  was,  however,  no  asperity  about  her, 
and  when  she  had  led  him  to  the  door  he  was  to  enter  to 
prefer  his  suit,  and  she  had  asked  whether  the  young  woman 
was  quite  common,  and  he  had  replied  that  he  had  picked 
her  up  on  the  road,  and  that  she  was  certainly  poor,  the 
hostess  said: 

"I'm  sure  you're  a  very  good  gentleman,  sir,  and  if  I 
could  spare  your  asking  at  all,  I  would." 

With  that  she  went  back  to  encounter  Mr.  Raikes  and  his 
charge,  and  prime  the  waggoner  and  his  mate. 

A  noise  of  laughter  and  talk  was  stilled  gradually,  as 
■Evan  made  his  bow  into  a  spacious  room,  wherein,  as  the 
tops  of  pines  are  seen  swimming  on  the  morning  mist,  about 
a  couple  of  dozen  guests  of  divers  conditions  sat  partially 
revealed  through  wavy  clouds  of  tobacco-smoke.  By  their 
postures,  which  Evan's  appearance  by  no  means  discon- 
certed, you  read  in  a  glance  men  who  had  b^en  at  ease  for 
so  many  hours  that  they  had  no  troubles  in  the  world  save 
the  two  ultimate  perplexities  of  the  British  Sybarite,  whose 
bed  of  roses  is  harassed  by  the  pair  of  problems :  first,  what 
to  do  with  his  legs ;  secondly,  how  to  imbibe  liquor  with  the 
slightest  possible  derangement  of  those  members  subordinate 
to  his  upper  structure.  Of  old  the  Sybarite  complained. 
Not  so  our  self-helpful  islanders.  Since  they  could  not,  now 
that  work  was  done  and  jollity  the  game,  take  off  their  legs, 
they  got  away  from  them  as  far  as  they  might,  in  fashions 
original  or  imitative :  some  by  thrusting  them  out  at  full 
length ;  some  by  cramping  them  under  their  chairs :  while 
some,  taking  refuge  in  a  mental  effort,  forgot  them,  a  process 


108  EVAN  HABRINGTON 

to  be  recommended  if  it  did  not  involve  occasional  pangs  of 
consciousness  to  the  legs  of  their  neighbours.  We  see  in 
our  cousins  West  of  the  great  water,  who  are  said  to  exag- 
gerate our  peculiarities,  beings  labouring  under  the  same 
difficulty,  and  intent  on  its  solution.  As  to  the  second 
problem:  that  of  drinking  without  discomposure  to  the 
subservient  limbs  :  the  company  present  worked  out  this 
republican  principle  ingeniously,  but  in  a  manner  beneath 
the  attention  of  the  Muse.  Let  Clio  record  that  mugs  and 
glasses,  tobacco  and  pipes,  were  strewn  upon  the  table.  But 
if  the  guests  had  arrived  at  that  stage  when  to  reach  the 
arm,  or  arrange  the  person,  for  a  sip  of  good  stuff,  causes 
moral  debates,  and  presents  to  the  mind  impediments  equal 
to  what  would  be  raised  in  active  men  by  the  prospect  of  a 
great  excursion,  it  is  not  to  be  wondered  at  that  the  presence 
of  a  stranger  produced  no  immediate  commotion.  Two  or 
three  heads  were  half  turned ;  such  as  faced  him  impercep- 
tibly lifted  their  eyelids, 

"  Good  evening,  sir,"  said  one  who  sat  as  chairman,  with 
a  decisive  nod. 

"  Good  night,  ain't  it  ?  "  a  jolly-looking  old  fellow  queried 
of  the  speaker,  in  an  under-voice. 

"  'Gad,  you  don't  expect  me  to  be  wishing  the  gentleman 
good-bye,  do  you  ?  "  retorted  the  former. 

"  Ha !  ha !  No,  to  be  sure,"  answered  the  old  boy ;  and 
the  remark  was  variously  uttered,  that  "  Good  night,"  by  a 
caprice  of  our  language,  did  sound  like  it. 

"  Good  evening's  '  How  d'  ye  do  ? '  — '  How  are  ye  ?  ' 
Good  night's  *  Be  off,  and  be  blowed  to  you,' "  observed  an 
interpreter  with  a  positive  mind  ;  and  another,  whose  intel- 
ligence was  not  so  clear,  but  whose  perceptions  had  seized 
the  point,  exclaimed :  "  I  never  says  it  when  I  hails  a  chap ; 
but,  dash  my  buttons,  if  I  mightn't  'a  done,  one  day  or 
another !     Queer ! " 

The  chairman,  warmed  by  his  joke,  added,  with  a  sharp 
wink :  "  Ay ;  it  would  be  queer,  if  you  hailed  *  Good  night ' 
in  the  middle  of  the  day ! "  and  this  among  a  company 
soaked  in  ripe  ale,  could  not  fail  to  run  the  electric  circle, 
and  persuaded  several  to  change  their  positions ;  in  the 
rumble  of  whicn,  Evan's  reply,  if  he  had  made  any,  was 
lost.     Few,  however,  were  there  who  could  think  of  him, 


DOINGS   AT  AN   INN  109 

and  ponder  on  that  glimpse  of  fun,  at  the  same  time;  and 
he  would  have  been  passed  over,  had  not  the  chairman 
said :  "  Take  a  seat,  sir ;  make  yourself  comfortable." 

" Before  I  have  that  pleasure,"  replied  Evan,  "I  —  " 

"  /  see  where  'tis,"  burst  out  the  old  boy  who  had  pre- 
viously superinduced  a  diversion :  "  he's  going  to  ax  if  he 
can't  have  a  bed ! " 

A  roar  of  laughter,  and  "  Don't  you  remember  this  day 
last  year  ?  "  followed  the  cunning  guess.  For  awhile  expli- 
cation was  impossible ;  and  Evan  coloured,  and  smiled,  and 
waited  for  them. 

"  I  was  going  to  ask  —  " 

"  Said  so  ! "  shouted  the  old  boy,  gleefully. 

"  —  one  of  the  gentlemen  who  has  engaged  a  bed-room  to 
do  me  the  extreme  favour  to  step  aside  with  me,  and  allow 
me  a  moment's  speech  with  him." 

Long  faces  were  drawn,  and  odd  stares  were  directed 
toward  him,  in  reply. 

"/  see  where  'tis;"  the  old  boy  thumped  his  knee. 
"Ain't  it  now?  Speak  up,  sir!  There's  a  lady  in  the 
case  ?  " 

"  I  may  tell  you  thus  much,"  answered  Evan,  "  that  it  is 
an  unfortunate  young  woman,  very  ill,  who  needs  rest  and 
quiet." 

"  Didn't  I  say  so  ?  "  shouted  the  old  boy. 

But  this  time,  though  his  jolly  red  jowl  turned  all  round 
to  demand  a  confirmation,  it  was  not  generally  considered 
that  he  had  divined  so  correctly.  Between  a  lady  and  an 
unfortunate  young  woman,  there  seemed  to  be  a  strong  dis- 
tinction, in  the  minds  of  the  company. 

The  chairman  was  the  most  affected  by  the  communica- 
tion. His  bushy  eyebrows  frowned  at  Evan,  and  he  began 
tugging  at  the  brass  buttons  of  his  coat,  like  one  preparing 
to  arm  for  a  conflict. 

"  Speak  out,  sir,  if  you  please,"  he  said.  "  Above  board 
—  no  asides  —  no  taking  advantages.  You  want  me  to  give 
up  my  bed-room  for  the  use  of  your  young  woman,  sir  ?  " 

Evan  replied  quietly :  "  She  is  a  stranger  to  me  ;  and  if 
you  could  see  her,  sir,  and  know  her  situation,  I  think  she 
would  move  your  pity." 

"  I  don't  doubt  it,  sir  —  I  don't  doubt  it,"  returned  the 


110  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

chairman.  "  They  all  move  our  pity.  That's  how  they  get 
over  us.  She  has  diddled  you,  aud  she  would  diddle  me, 
and  diddle  us  all  —  diddle  the  devil,  I  dare  say,  when  her 
time  comes.     I  don't  doubt  it,  sir." 

To  confront  a  vehement  old  gentleman,  sitting  as  presi- 
dent in  an  assembly  of  satellites,  requires  command  of  coun- 
tenance, and  Evan  was  not  browbeaten:  he  held  him,  and 
the  whole  room,  from  where  he  stood,  under  a  serene  and 
serious  eye,  for  his  feelings  were  too  deeply  stirred  on  behalf 
of  the  girl  to  let  him  think  of  himself.  That  question  of 
hers,  "  What  are  you  going  to  do  with  me  ?  "  implying  such 
helplessness  and  trust,  was  still  sharp  on  his  nerves. 

"Gentlemen,"  he  said,  "I  humbly  beg  your  pardon  for 
disturbing  you  as  I  do." 

But  with  a  sudden  idea  that  a  general  address  on  behalf 
of  a  particular  demand  must  necessarily  fail,  he  let  his  eyes 
rest  on  one  there,  whose  face  was  neither  stupid  nor  repel- 
lent, and  who,  though  he  did  not  look  up,  had  an  attentive, 
thoughtful  cast  about  the  mouth. 

"  May  I  entreat  a  word  apart  with  you,  sir  ?  " 

Evan  was  not  mistaken  in  the  index  he  had  perused.  The 
gentleman  seemed  to  feel  that  he  was  selected  from  the 
company,  and  slightly  raising  his  head,  carelessly  replied : 
"My  bed  is  entirely  at  your  disposal,"  resuming  his  con- 
templative pose. 

On  the  point  of  thanking  him,  Evan  advanced  a  step, 
when  up  started  the  irascible  chairman. 

"  I  don't  permit  it !  I  won't  allow  it ! "  And  before  Evan 
could  ask  his  reasons,  he  had  rung  the  bell,  muttering: 
"They  follow  us  to  our  inns,  now,  the  baggages!  They 
must  harry  us  at  our  inns !  We  can't  have  peace  and  quiet 
at  our  inns !  " 

In  a  state  of  combustion,  he  cried  out  to  the  waiter: 
*  Here,  Mark,  this  gentleman  has  brought  in  a  dirty  wench : 
pack  her  up  to  my  bed-room,  and  lock  her  in :  lock  her  in, 
and  bring  down  the  key." 

Agreeably  deceived  in  the  old  gentleman's  intentions, 
Evan  could  not  refrain  from  joining  the  murmured  hilarity 
created  by  the  conclusion  of  his  order.  The  latter  glared  at 
him,  and  added :  "  Now,  sir,  you've  done  your  worst.  Sit 
down,  and  be  merry." 


DOINGS   AT  AN  INN  111 

Replying  that  he  had  a  friend  outside,  and  would  not  fail 
to  accept  the  invitation,  Evan  retired.  He  was  met  by  the 
hostess  with  the  reproachful  declaration  on  her  lips,  that 
she  was  a  widow  woman,  wise  in  appearances,  and  that  he 
had  brought  into  her  house  that  night  work  she  did  not 
expect,  or  bargain  for.  Rather  (since  I  must  speak  truth  of 
my  gentleman)  to  silence  her  on  the  subject,  and  save  his 
ears,  than  to  propitiate  her  favour  towards  the  girl,  Evan 
drew  out  his  constitutionally  lean  purse,  and  dropped  it  in 
her  hand,  praying  her  to  put  every  expense  incurred  to  his 
charge.  She  exclaimed:  "If  Dr.  Pillie  has  his  full  sleep 
this  night,  I  shall  be  astonished ; "  and  Evan  hastily  led 
Jack  into  the  passage  to  impart  to  him,  that  the  extent 
of  his  resources  was  reduced  to  the  smallest  of  sums  in 
shillings. 

"I  can  beat  my  friend  at  that  reckoning,"  said  Mr.  Raikes ; 
and  they  entered  the  room. 

Eyes  were  on  him.  This  had  ever  the  effect  of  causing 
him  to  swell  to  monstrous  proportions  in  the  histrionic  line. 
Asking  the  waiter  carelessly  for  some  light  supper  dish,  he 
suggested  the  various  French,  with  "not  that?"  and  the 
affable  naming  of  another.  "  Not  that  ?  Dear  me,  we  shall 
have  to  sup  on  chops,  I  believe  ! " 

Evan  saw  the  chairman  scrutinizing  Raikes,  much  as  he 
himself  might  have  done,  and  he  said :  "  Bread  and  cheese 
for  me." 

Raikes  exclaimed :  "  Really  ?  Well,  my  lord,  you  lead, 
and  your  taste  is  mine." 

A  second  waiter  scudded  past,  and  stopped  before  the 
chairman  to  say:  "If  you  please,  sir,  the  gentlemen  up- 
stairs send  their  compliments,  and  will  be  happy  to  ac- 
cept." 

"Ha!"  was  the  answer.  "Thought  better  of  it,  have 
they !  Lay  for  three  more,  then.  Five  more,  I  guess." 
He  glanced  at  the  pair  of  intruders. 

Among  a  portion  of  the  guests  there  had  been  a  return  to 
common  talk,  and  one  had  observed  that  he  could  not  get 
that  "  Good  Evening,"  and  "  Good  Night,"  out  of  his  head : 
which  had  caused  a  friend  to  explain  the  meaning  of  these 
terms  of  salutation  to  him  :  while  another,  of  a  philosophic 
turn,  pursued  the  theme:   "You  see,  when  we  meets,  we 


112  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

makes  a  night  of  it.  So,  when  we  parts,  it's  Good  Night 
—  natural !  ain't  it  ?  "  A  proposition  assented  to,  and  con- 
siderably dilated  on ;  but  whether  he  was  laughing  at  that, 
or  what  had  aroused  the  fit,  the  chairman  did  not  say. 

Gentle  chuckles  had  succeeded  his  la\ighter  by  the  time 
the  bread  and  cheese  appeared. 

In  the  rear  of  the  provision  came  three  young  gentle- 
men, of  whom  the  foremost  lumped  in,  singing  to  one 
behind  him,  —  "  And  you  shall  have  little  Rosey  ! " 

They  were  clad  in  cricketing  costume,  and  exhibited  the 
health  and  manners  of  youthful  Englishmen  of  station. 
Frolicsome  young  bulls  bursting  on  an  assemblage  of  sheep, 
they  might  be  compared  to.  The  chairman  welcomed  them 
a  trifle  snubbingly.  The  colour  mounted  to  the  cheeks  of 
Mr.  Raikes  as  he  made  incision  in  the  cheese,  under  their 
eyes,  knitting  his  brows  fearfully,  as  if  at  hard  work. 

The  chairman  entreated  Evan  to  desist  from  the  cheese ; 
and,  pulling  out  his  watch,  thundered :  "  Time ! " 

The  company  generally  jumped  on  their  legs ;  and,  in  the 
midst  of  a  hum  of  talk  and  laughter,  he  informed  Evan  and 
Jack,  that  he  invited  them  cordially  to  a  supper  up-stairs, 
and  would  be  pleased  if  they  would  partake  of  it,  and  in 
a  great  rage  if  they  would  not. 

Raikes  was  for  condescending  to  accept. 

Evan  sprang  up  and  cried:  "Gladly,  sir,"  and  gladly 
would  he  have  cast  his  cockney  schoolmaster  to  the  winds, 
in  the  presence  of  these  young  cricketers ;  for  he  had  a 
prognostication. 

The  door  was  open,  and  the  company  of  jolly  yeomen, 
tradesmen,  farmers,  and  the  like,  had  become  intent  on 
observing  all  the  ceremonies  of  precedence :  not  one  would 
broaden  his  back  on  the  other ;  and  there  was  bowing,  and 
scraping,  and  grimacing,  till  Farmer  Broadmead  was  hailed 
aloud,  and  the  old  boy  stepped  forth,  and  was  summarily 
pushed  through:  the  chairman  calling  from  the  rear, 
"  Hulloa !  no  names  to-night ! "  to  which  was  answered 
lustily:  "All  right,  Mr.  Tom! "'and  the  speaker  was  re- 
proved with,  "There  you  go!  at  it  again!"  and  out  and  up 
they  hustled. 

The  chairman  said  quietly  to  Evan,  as  they  were  ascend- 
ing the  stairs :  "  We  don't  have  names  to-night ;  may  as  well 


ALE  HAS  OKE  QUALITY  OF  WINE  113 

drop  titles."  Which  presented  no  peculiar  meaning  to 
Evan's  mind,  and  he  smiled  the  usual  smile. 

To  Raikes,  at  the  door  of  the  supper-room,  the  chairman 
repeated  the  same ;  and,  with  extreme  affability  and  alacrity 
of  abnegation,  the  other  rejoined,  "  Oh,  certainly ! " 

No  wonder  that  he  rubbed  his  hands  with  more  delight 
than  aristocrats  and  people  with  gentlemanly  connections 
are  in  the  habit  of  betraying  at  the  prospect  of  refection,  for 
the  release  from  bread  and  cheese  was  rendered  overpower- 
ingly  glorious,  in  his  eyes,  by  the  bountiful  contrast  exhib- 
ited on  the  board  before  him. 


CHAPTER  XII 

IN  WHICH  ALE   IS   SHOWN   TO   HAVE   ONE   QUALITY    OF   WINK 

To  proclaim  that  yon  ribs  of  beef  and  yonder  ruddy 
Britons  have  met,  is  to  furnish  matter  for  an  hour's  com- 
fortable meditation. 

Digest  the  fact.  Here  the  Fates  have  put  their  seal  to 
something  Nature  clearly  devised.  It  was  intended ;  and  it 
has  come  to  pass.  A  thing  has  come  to  pass  which  we  feel 
to  be  right !  The  machinery  of  the  world,  then,  is  not  en- 
tirely dislocated:  there  is  harmony,  on  one  point,  among 
the  mysterious  powers  who  have  to  do  with  us. 

Apart  from  its  eloquent  and  consoling  philosophy,  the 
picture  is  pleasant.  You  see  two  rows  of  shoulders  reso- 
lutely set  for  action :  heads  in  divers  degrees  of  proximity 
to  their  plates :  eyes  variously  twinkling,  or  hypocritically 
composed :  chaps  in  vigorous  exercise.  Now  leans  a  fellow 
right  back  with  his  whole  face  to  the  firmament :  Ale  is  his 
adoration.  He  sighs  not  till  he  sees  the  end  of  the  mug. 
Now  from  one  a  laugh  is  sprung ;  but,  as  if  too  early  tapped, 
he  turns  off  the  cock,  and  primes  himself  anew.  Occupied 
by  their  own  requirements,  these  Britons  allow  that  their 
neighbours  have  rights:  no  cursing  at  waste  of  time  is 
heard  when  plates  have  to  be  passed:  disagreeable,  it  is 
still  duty.     Field-Marshal  Duty,  the  Briton's  chief  star, 


114  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

shines  here.  If  one  usurps  more  than  his  allowance  of 
elbow-room,  bring  your  charge  against  them  that  fashioned 
him :  work  away  to  arrive  at  some  compass  yourself. 

Now  the  mustard  ceases  to  travel,  and  the  salt :  the  guests 
have  leisure  to  contemplate  their  achievements.  Laughs 
are  more  prolonged,  and  come  from  the  depths. 

Now  Ale,  which  is  to  Beef  what  Eve  was  to  Adam, 
threatens  to  take  possession  of  the  field.  Happy  they  who, 
following  Nature's  direction,  admitted  not  bright  ale  into 
their  Paradise  till  their  manhood  was  strengthened  with 
beef.  Some,  impatient,  had  thirsted;  had  satisfied  their 
thirst;  and  the  ale,  the  light  though  lovely  spirit,  with 
nothing  to  hold  it  down,  had  mounted  to  their  heads ;  just 
as  Eve  will  do  when  Adam  is  not  mature:  just  as  she  did — 
Alas! 

Now,  the  ruins  of  the  feast  being  removed,  and  a  clear 
course  left  for  the  flow  of  ale.  Farmer  Broadmead,  facing  the 
chairman,  rises.  He  stands  in  an  attitude  of  midway.  He 
speaks : 

"  Gentlemen !  'Taint  fust  time  you  and  I  be  met  here,  to 
salbrate  this  here  occasion.  I  say,  not  fust  time,  not  by 
many  a  time,  'taint.  Well,  gentlemen,  I  ain't  much  of  a 
speaker,  gentlemen,  as  you  know.  Howsever,  here  I  be. 
No  denyin'  that.  I'm  on  my  legs.  This  here's  a  strange 
enough  world,  and  a  man  as  's  a  gentleman,  I  say,  we  ought 
for  to  be  glad  when  we  got  'm.  You  know :  I'm  coming  to  it 
shortly.  I  ain't  much  of  a  speaker,  and  if  you  wants  some- 
thin'  new,  you  must  ax  elsewhere:  but  what  I  say  is  —  dang 
it !  here's  good  health  and  long  life  to  Mr.  Tom,  up  there  ! " 

"No  names!"  shouts  the  chairman,  in  the  midst  of  a 
tremendous  clatter. 

Farmer  Broadmead  moderately  disengages  his  breadth 
from  the  seat.  He  humbly  axes  pardon,  which  is  accorded 
him  with  a  blunt  nod. 

Ale  (to  Beef  what  Eve  was  to  Adam)  circulates  beneath  a 
dazzling  foam,  fair  as  the  first  woman. 

Mr.  Tom  (for  the  breach  of  the  rules  in  mentioning  whose 
name  on  a  night  when  identities  are  merged,  we  offer  sincere 
apologies  every  other  minute),  Mr.  Tom  is  toasted.  His 
parents,  who  selected  that  day  sixty  years  ago,  for  his  bow 


ALE  HAS   ONE   QUALITY   OF   WINE  115 

to  be  made  to  the  world,  are  alluded  to  with  encomiums, 
and  float  down  to  posterity  on  floods  of  liquid  amber. 

But  to  see  all  the  subtle  merits  that  now  begin  to  bud  out 
from  Mr.  Tom,  the  chairman  and  giver  of  the  feast;  and 
also  rightly  to  appreciate  the  speeches,  we  require  to  be  enor- 
mously charged  with  Ale.  Mr.  Raikes  did  his  best  to  keep 
his  head  above  the  surface  of  the  rapid  flood.  He  conceived 
the  chairman  in  brilliant  colours,  and  probably  owing  to  the 
energy  called  for  by  his  brain,  the  legs  of  the  young  man 
failed  him  twice,  as  he  tried  them.  Attention  was  demanded. 
Mr.  Raikes  addressed  the  meeting. 

The  three  young  gentlemen-cricketers  had  hitherto  be- 
haved with  a  certain  propriety.  It  did  not  offend  Mr.  Raikes 
to  see  them  conduct  themselves  as  if  they  were  at  a  play, 
and  the  rest  of  the  company  paid  actors.  He  had  likewise 
taken  a  position,  and  had  been  the  first  to  laugh  aloud  at  a 
particular  slip  of  grammar ;  while  his  shrugs  at  the  aspirates 
transposed  and  the  pronunciation  prevalent,  had  almost  es- 
tablished a  free-masonry  between  him  and  one  of  the  three 
young  gentlemen-cricketers  —  a  fair-haired  youth,  with  a 
handsome,  reckless  face,  who  leaned  on  the  table,  humorously 
eyeing  the  several  speakers,  and  exchanging  by-words  and 
laughs  with  his  friends  on  each  side  of  him. 

But  Mr.  Raikes  had  the  disadvantage  of  having  come  to 
the  table  empty  in  stomach  —  thirsty  exceedingly ;  and,  I 
repeat,  that  as,  without  experience,  you  are  the  victim  of 
divinely-given  Eve,  so,  with  no  foundation  to  receive  it  upon, 
are  you  the  victim  of  good  sound  Ale.  He  very  soon  lost 
his  head.  He  would  otherwise  have  seen  that  he  must  pro- 
duce a  wonderfully-telling  speech  if  he  was  to  keep  the 
position  he  had  taken,  and  had  better  not  attempt  one.  The 
three  young  cricketers  were  hostile  from  the  beginning.  All 
of  them  leant  forward,  calling  attention  loudly,  laughing  for 
the  fun  to  come. 

"  Gentlemen ! "  he  said :  and  said  it  twice.  The  gap  was 
wide,  and  he  said,  "  Gentlemen ! "  again. 

This  commencement  of  a  speech  proves  that  you  have  made 
the  plunge,  but  not  that  you  can  swim.  At  a  repetition  of 
"  Gentlemen !  "  expectancy  resolved  into  cynicism. 

"  Gie'n  a  help,"  sang  out  a  son  of  the  plough  to  a  neigh- 
bour of  the  orator. 


116  EVAN   HAREINGTON 

"  Dang  it ! "  murmured  another,  "  we  ain't  such  gentlemen 
as  that  comes  to." 

Mr.  Raikes  was  politely  requested  to  "  time  his  pipe." 

With  a  gloomy  curiosity  as  to  the  results  of  Jack's  adven- 
turous undertaking,  and  a  touch  of  anger  at  the  three  whose 
bearing  throughout  had  displeased  him,  Evan  regarded  his 
friend.  He,  too,  had  drunk,  and  upon  emptiness.  Bright 
ale  had  mounted  to  his  brain.  A  hero  should  be  held  as 
sacred  as  the  Grand  Llama :  so  let  no  more  be  said  than  that 
he  drank  still,  nor  marked  the  replenishing  of  his  glass. 

Raikes  cleared  his  throat  for  a  final  assault :  he  had  got 
an  image,  and  was  dashing  off ;  but,  unhappily,  as  if  to 
make  the  start  seem  fair,  he  was  guilty  of  his  reiteration, 
"  Gentlemen," 

Everybody  knew  that  it  was  a  real  start  this  time,  and 
indeed  he  had  made  an  advance,  and  had  run  straight  through 
half  a  sentence.  It  was  therefore  manifestly  unfair,  inimical, 
contemptuous,  overbearing,  and  base,  for  one  of  the  three 
young  cricketers  at  this  period  to  fling  back  weariedly  and 
exclaim  :  "  By  the  Lord ;  too  many  gentlemen  here !  " 

Evan  heard  him  across  the  table.  Lacking  the  key  of  the 
speaker's  previous  conduct,  the  words  might  have  passed.  As 
it  was,  they,  to  the  ale-invaded  head  of  a  young  hero,  feeling 
himself  the  world's  equal,  and  condemned  nevertheless  to 
bear  through  life  the  insignia  of  Tailordom,  not  unnaturally 
struck  with  peculiar  offence.  There  was  arrogance,  too,  in 
the  young  man  who  had  interposed.  He  was  long  in  the 
body,  and,  when  he  was  not  refreshing  his  sight  by  a  careless 
contemplation  of  his  finger-nails,  looked  down  on  his  company 
at  table,  as  one  may  do  who  comes  from  loftier  studies.  He 
had  what  is  popularly  known  as  the  nose  of  our  aristocracy : 
a  nose  that  much  culture  of  the  external  graces,  and  affecta-' 
tion  of  suavity,  are  required  to  soften.  Thereto  were  joined 
thin  lips  and  arched  brows.  Birth  it  was  possible  he  could 
boast,  hardly  brains.  He  sat  to  the  right  of  the  fair-haired 
youth,  who,  with  his  remaining  comrade,  a  quiet  smiling 
fellow,  appeared  to  be  better  liked  by  the  guests,  and  had 
been  hailed  once  or  twice,  under  correction  of  the  chairman, 
as  Mr.  Harry.  The  three  had  distinguished  one  there  by  a 
few  friendly  passages ;  and  this  was  he  who  had  offered  his 
bed  to  Evan  for  the  service  of  the  girl.    The  recognition  they 


ALE  HAS   ONE  QUALITY  OF   WINE  117 

extended  to  him  did  not  affect  him  deeply.  He  was  called 
Drumraond,  and  had  his  place  near  the  chairman,  whose 
humours  he  seemed  to  relish. 

The  ears  of  Mr.  Raikes  were  less  keen  at  the  moment 
than  Evan's,  but  his  openness  to  ridicule  was  that  of  a  man 
oji  his  legs  solus,  amid  a  company  sitting,  and  his  sense  of 
the  same  —  when  he  saw  himself  the  victim  of  it  —  acute. 
His  face  was  rather  comic,  and,  under  the  shadow  of  embar- 
rassment, twitching  and  working  for  ideas  —  might  excuse 
a  want  of  steadiness  and  absolute  gravity  in  the  counte- 
nances of  others. 

The  chairman's  neighbour,  Drummond,  whispered  him : 
"  Laxley  will  get  up  a  row  with,  that  fellow." 

"  It's  young  Jocelyn  egging  him  on,"  said  the  chairman. 

"Um!"  added  Drummond:  "it's  the  friend  of  that  talka- 
tive rascal  that's  dangerous,  if  it  comes  to  anything." 

Mr.  Raikes  perceived  that  his  host  desired  him  to  conclude. 
So,  lifting  his  voice  and  swinging  his  arm,  he  ended :  "  Allow 
me  to  propose  to  you  the  My  in  Amber.  In  other  words, 
our  excellent  host  embalmed  in  brilliant  ale !  Drink  him  ! 
and  so  let  him  live  in  our  memories  for  ever ! " 

He  sat  down  very  well  contented  with  himself,  very  little 
comprehended,  and  applauded  loudly. 

"The  Flyin'  Number!"  echoed  Farmer  Broadmead,  con- 
fidently and  with  clamour ;  adding  to  a  friend,  when  both 
had  drunk  the  toast  to  the  dregs,  "  But  what  number  that 
be,  or  how  many  'tis  of  'em,  dishes  me  !  But  that's  ne'ther 
here  nor  there." 

The  chairman  and  host  of  the  evening  stood  up  to  reply, 
welcomed  by  thunders  —  "There  ye  be,  Mr.  Tom!  glad  I 
lives  to  see  ye ! "  and  "  No  names !  "  and  "  Long  life  to 
him ! " 

This  having  subsided,  the  chairman  spoke,  first  nodding. 

"  You  don't  want  many  words,  and  if  you  do,  you  won't 
get  'em  from  me." 

Cries  of  "  Got  something  better ! "  took  up  the  blunt 
address. 

"  You've  been  true  to  it,  most  of  you.  I  like  men  not  to 
forget  a  custom." 

"  Good  reason  so  to  be,"  and  "  A  jolly  good  custom,"  re- 
plied to  both  sentences. 


118  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"As  to  the  beef,  I  hope  you  didn't  find  it  tough:  as  to  the 
ale  —  I  know  all  about  thai  !  " 

"  Aha !  good !  "  rang  the  verdict. 

"  All  I  can  say  is,  that  this  day  next  year  it  will  be  on  the 
table,  and  I  hope  that  every  one  of  you  will  meet  Tom  —  will 
meet  me  here  punctually.  I'm  not  a  Parliament  man,  so 
that'll  do." 

The  chairman's  breech  of  his  own  rules  drowned  the  ter- 
mination of  his  speech  in  an  uproar. 

Re-seating  himself,  he  lifted  his  glass,  and  proposed: 
"  The  Antediluvians ! " 

Farmer  Broadmead  echoed :  "  The  Antediloovians ! "  ap- 
pending, as  a  private  sentiment,  "  And  dam  rum  chaps  they 
were ! " 

The  Antediluvians,  undoubtedly  the  toast  of  the  even- 
ing, were  enthusiastically  drunk,  and  in  an  ale  of  treble 
brew. 

When  they  had  quite  gone  down,  Mr.  Raikes  ventured  to 
ask  for  the  reason  of  their  receiving  such  honour  from  a 
posterity  they  had  so  little  to  do  with.  He  put  the  question 
mildly,  but  was  impetuously  snapped  at  by  the  chairman. 

"  You  respect  men  for  their  luck,  sir,  don't  you  ?  Don't 
be  a  hypocrite,  and  say  you  don't — you  do.  Very  well: 
so  do  I.     That's  why  I  drink  '  The  Antediluvians ' ! " 

"  Our  worthy  host  here  "  (Drummond,  gravely  smiling, 
undertook  to  elucidate  the  case)  "has  a  theory  that  the 
constitutions  of  the  Postdiluvians  have  been  deranged,  and 
their  lives  shortened,  by  the  miasmas  of  the  Deluge.  I  be- 
lieve he  carries  it  so  far  as  to  say  that  Noah,  in  the  light 
of  a  progenitor,  is  inferior  to  Adam,  owing  to  the  shaking 
he  had  to  endure  in  the  ark,  and  which  he  conceives  to 
have  damaged  the  patriarch  and  the  nervous  systems  of 
his  sons.     It's  a  theory,  you  know." 

"  They  lived  close  on  a  thousand  years,  hale,  hearty  —  and 
no  water ! "  said  the  chairman. 

"  Well ! "  exclaimed  one,  some  way  down  the  table,  a 
yoimg  farmer,  red  as  a  cock's  comb:  "no  fools  they,  eh, 
master?  Where  there's  ale,  would  you  drink  water,  my 
hearty  ? "  and  back  he  leaned  to  enjoy  the  tribute  to  his 
wit ;  a  wit  not  remarkable,  but  nevertheless  sufficient  in  the 
noise  it  created  to  excite  the  envy  of  Mr.  Raikes,  who,  in- 


ALE  HAS   ONE  QUALITY   OF   WINE  119 

veterately  silly  when  not  engaged  in  a  contest,  now  began 
to  play  on  the  names  of  the  sons  of  Noah. 

The  chairman  lanced  a  keen  light  at  him  from  beneath, 
his  bushy  eyebrows. 

Before  long  he  had  again  to  call  two  parties  to  order.  To 
Raikes,  Laxley  was  a  puppy :  to  Laxley,  Mr.  Raikes  was  a 
snob.  The  antagonism  was  natural :  ale  did  but  put  the  match 
to  the  magazine.  But  previous  to  an  explosion,  Laxley,  who 
had  observed  Evan's  disgust  at  Jack's  exhibition  of  himself, 
and  had  been  led  to  think,  by  his  conduct  and  clothes  in  con- 
junction, that  Evan  was  his  own  equal ;  —  a  gentleman  con- 
descending to  the  society  of  a  low-born  acquaintance ;  —  had 
sought  with  sundry  propitiations,  intelligent  glances,  light 
shrugs,  and  such  like,  to  divide  Evan  from  Jack.  He  did 
this,  doubtless,  because  he  partly  sympathized  with  Evan, 
and  to  assure  him  that  he  took  a  separate  view  of  him. 
Probably  Evan  was  already  offended,  or  he  held  to  Jack,  as  a 
comrade  should,  or  else  it  was  that  Tailordom  and  the  pride 
of  his  accepted  humiliation  bellowed  in  his  ears,  every  fresh 
minute :  "  Nothing  assume ! "  I  incline  to  think  that  the 
more  ale  he  drank  the  fiercer  rebel  he  grew  against  conven- 
tional ideas  of  rank,  and  those  class-barriers  which  we  scorn 
so  vehemently  when  we  find  ourselves  kicking  at  them. 
Whatsoever  the  reason  that  prompted  him,  he  did  not 
respond  to  Laxley's  advances;  and  Laxley,  disregarding 
him,  dealt  with  Raikes  alone. 

In  a  tone  plainly  directed  at  him,  he  said:  "Well,  Harry, 
tired  of  this  ?  The  agricultural  are  good  fun,  but  I  can't 
stand  much  of  the  small  cockney.  A.  blackguard  who  tries 
to  make  jokes  out  of  the  Scriptures  ought  to  be  kicked ! " 

Harry  rejoined,  with  wet  lips :  "  Wopping  stuff,  this  ale ! 
Who's  that  you  want  to  kick  ?  " 

"Somebody  who  objects  to  his  bray,  I  suppose,"  Mr. 
Raikes  struck  in,  across  the  table,  negligently  thrusting  out 
his  elbow  to  support  his  head. 

"  Did  you  allude  to  me,  sir  ?  "  Laxley  inquired. 

"'  I  alluded  to  a  donkey,  sir."  Raikes  lifted  his  eyelids  to 
the  same  level  as  Laxley's :  "  a  passing  remark  on  that  in- 
teresting animal." 

His  friend  Harry  now  came  into  the  ring  to  try  a  fall. 

"  Are  you  an  visher  in  a  school  ?  "  he  asked,  meaning  by 
his  looks  what  men  of  science  in  fisticuffs  call  business. 


120  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Mr.  Raikes  started  in  amazement.  He  recovered  as 
quickly. 

"  No,  sir,  not  quite  :  but  I  have  no  doubt  I  should  be  able 
to  instruct  you  upon  a  point  or  two," 

"  Good  manners,  for  instance  ?  "  remarked  the  third  young 
cricketer,  without  disturbing  his  habitual  smile. 

"  Or  what  comes  from  not  observing  them,"  said  Evan,  un- 
willing to  have  Jack  over-matched. 

"  Perhaps  you'll  give  me  a  lesson  now  ?  "  Harry  indicated 
a  readiness  to  rise  for  either  of  them. 

At  this  juncture  the  chairman  interposed. 

"Harmony,  my  lads!  —  harmony  to-night." 

Farmer  Broadmead,  imagining  it  to  be  the  signal  for  a 
jong,  returned : 

"  All  right,  Mr. Mr.  Chair !  but  we  an't  got  pipes  in 

yet.     Pipes  before  harmony,  you  know,  to-night." 

The  pipes  were  summoned  forthwith.  System  appeared 
to  regulate  the  proceedings  of  this  particular  night  at  the 
Green  Dragon.  The  pipes  charged,  and  those  of  the  guests 
who  smoked,  well  fixed  behind  them,  celestial  Harmony  was 
invoked  through  the  slowly  curling  clouds.  In  Britain  the 
Goddess  is  coy.  She  demands  pressure  to  appear,  and 
great  gulps  of  ale.  Vastly  does  she  swell  the  chests  of  her 
island  children,  but  with  the  modesty  of  a  maid  at  the  com- 
mencement. Precedence  again  disturbed  the  minds  of  the 
company.  At  last  the  red-faced  young  farmer  led  off  with 
"  The  Rose  and  the  Thorn."  In  that  day  Chloe  still  lived ; 
nor  were  the  amorous  transports  of  Strephon  quenched. 
Mountainous  inflation  —  mouse-like  issue  characterized  the 
young  farmer's  first  verse.  Encouraged  by  manifest  appro- 
bation he  now  told  Chloe  that  he  "  by  Heaven !  never  would 
plant  in  that  bosom  a  thorn,"  with  such  a  volume  of  sound 
as  did  indeed  show  how  a  lover's  oath  should  be  uttered  in 
the  ear  of  a  British  damsel  to  subdue  her. 

"  Good ! "  cried  Mr.  Raikes,  anxious  to  be  convivial. 

Subsiding  into  impertinence,  he  asked  Laxley,  "Could 
you  tip  us  a  Strephonade,  sir  ?  Rejoiced  to  listen  to  you, 
I'm  SMie !     Promise  you  my  applause  beforehand." 

Harry  replied  hotly :  "  Will  you  step  out  of  the  room  with 
me  a  minute  ?  " 

"  Have  you  a  confession  to  make  ? "  quoth  Jack,  un- 


ALB   HAS   ONE   QUALITY   OF   WINE  121 

moved.  "  Have  you  planted  a  thorn  in  the  feminine  flower- 
garden  ?  Make  a  clean  breast  of  it  at  the  table.  Confess 
openly  and  be  absolved." 

While  Evan  spoke  a  word  of  angry  reproof  to  Raikes, 
Harry  had  to  be  restrained  by  his  two  friends.  The  rest  of 
the  company  looked  on  with  curiosity;  the  mouth  of  the 
chairman  was  bunched.  Drummond  had  his  eyes  on  Evan, 
who  was  gazing  steadily  at  the  three.  Suddenly  "The 
fellow  isn't  a  gentleman  ! "  struck  the  attention  of  Mr. 
Raikes  with  alarming  force. 

Raikes  —  and  it  may  be  because  he  knew  he  could  do 
more  than  Evan  in  this  respect  —  vociferated:  "I'm  the 
son  of  a  gentleman ! " 

Drummond,  from  the  head  of  the  table,  saw  that  a  diver- 
sion was  imperative.  He  leaned  forward,  and  with  a  look 
of  great  interest  said : 

"Are  you?    Pray,  never  disgrace  your  origin,  then." 

"  If  the  choice  were  offered  me,  I  think  I  would  rather 
have  known  his  father,"  said  the  smiling  fellow,  yawning, 
and  rocking  on  his  chair. 

"  You  would,  possibly,  have  been  exceedingly  intimate  — 
with  his  right  foot,"  said  Raikes. 

The  other  merely  remarked :  "  Oh !  that  is  the  language 
of  the  son  of  a  gentleman." 

The  tumult  of  irony,  abuse,  and  retort  went  on  despite 
the  efforts  of  Drummond  and  the  chairman.  It  was  odd ; 
for  at  Farmer  Broadmead's  end  of  the  table,  friendship  had 
grown  maudlin :  two  were  seen  in  a  drowsy  embrace,  with 
crossed  pipes;  and  others  were  vowing  deep  amity,  and 
offering  to  fight  the  man  that  might  desire  it. 

"  Are  ye  a  friend  ?  or  are  ye  a  foe  ?  "  was  heard  repeat- 
edly, and  consequences  to  the  career  of  the  respondent,  on 
his  choice  of  affirmatives  to  either  of  these  two  interroga- 
tions, emphatically  detailed. 

It  was  likewise  asked,  in  reference  to  the  row  at  the 
gentlemen's  end:  "Why  doan'  they  stand  up  and  have't 
out  ?  " 

"  They  talks,  they  speechifies  —  why  doan'  they  fight  for't, 
and  then  be  friendly  ?  " 

"Where's  the  yarmony,  Mr.  Chair,  I  axes  —  so  please 
ye  ?  "  sang  out  Farmer  Broadmead. 


122  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"  Ay,  ay !     Silence ! "  the  chairman  called. 

Mr.  Raikes  begged  permission  to  pronounce  his  excuses, 
but  lapsed  into  a  lamentation  for  the  squandering  of  property 
bequeathed  to  him  by  his  respected  uncle,  and  for  which  — 
as  far  as  he  was  intelligible  —  he  persisted  in  calling  the 
three  offensive  young  cricketers  opposite  to  account. 

Before  he  could  desist.  Harmony,  no  longer  coy,  burst  on 
the  assembly  from  three  different  sources.  "  A  Man  who  is 
given  to  Liquor,"  soared  aloft  with  "  The  Maid  of  sweet 
Seventeen,"  who  participated  in  the  adventures  of  "  Young 
Molly  and  the  Kicking  Cow ; "  while  the  guests  selected  the 
chorus  of  the  song  that  first  demanded  it. 

Evan  probably  thought  that  Harmony  was  herself  only 
when  she  came  single,  or  he  was  wearied  of  his  fellows,  and 
wished  to  gaze  a  moment  on  the  skies  whose  arms  were  over 
and  around  his  young  beloved.  He  went  to  the  window  and 
threw  it  up,  and  feasted  his  sight  on  the  moon  standing  on 
the  downs.  He  could  have  wept  at  the  bitter  ignominy  that 
severed  him  from  Rose.  And  again  he  gathered  his  pride 
as  a  cloak,  and  defied  the  world,  and  gloried  in  the  sacrifice 
that  degraded  him.  The  beauty  of  the  night  touched  him, 
and  mixed  these  feelings  with  a  mournfulness.  He  quite 
forgot  the  bellow  and  clatter  behind.  The  beauty  of  the 
night,  and  heaven  knows  what  treacherous  hope  in  the 
depths  of  his  soul,  coloured  existence  warmly. 

He  was  roused  from  his  reverie  by  an  altercation  unmis- 
takeably  fierce. 

Raikes  had  been  touched  on  a  tender  point.  In  reply  to 
a  bantering  remark  of  his,  Laxley  had  hummed  over  bits  of 
his  oration,  amid  the  chuckles  of  his  comrades.  Unfortii- 
nately  at  a  loss  for  a  biting  retort,  he  was  reduced  to  that 
plain  confession  of  a  lack  of  wit ;  he  offered  combat. 

"  I'll  tell  you  what,"  said  Laxley,  "  I  never  soil  my  hands 
with  a  blackguard ;  and  a  fellow  who  tries  to  make  fun  of 
Scripture,  in  my  opinion  is  one.  A  blackguard  —  do  you 
hear  ?  But,  if  you'll  give  me  satisfactory  proofs  that  you 
really  are  what  I  have  some  difficulty  in  believing  —  the  son 
of  a  gentleman  —  I'll  meet  you  when  and  where  you  please." 

"Fight  him,  anyhow,"  said  Harry.  "I'll  take  him  my- 
self after  we  finish  the  match  to-morrow." 

Laxley  rejoined  that  Mr.  Raikes  must  be  left  to  him. 


ALB  HAS   ONE  QUALITY   OF  WINE  123 

«  Then  I'll  take  the  other,"  said  Harry,     "  Where  is  be  ?  " 

Evan  walked  round  to  his  place. 

"  I  am  here,"  he  answered,  "  and  at  your  service." 

"  Will  you  fight  ?  "  cried  Harry. 

There  was  a  disdainful  smile  on  Evan's  mouth,  as  he 
replied :  "  I  must  first  enlighten  you.  I  have  no  pretensions 
to  your  blue  blood,  or  yellow.  If,  sir,  you  will  deign  to 
challenge  a  man  who  is  not  the  son  of  a  gentleman,  and 
consider  the  expression  of  his  thorough  contempt  for  your 
conduct  sufficient  to  enable  you  to  overlook  that  fact,  yon 
may  dispose  of  me.  My  friend  here  has,  it  seems,  reason 
to  be  proud  of  his  connections.  That  you  may  not  subse- 
quently bring  the  charge  against  me  of  having  led  yo.u  to 
*  soil  your  hands '  —  as  your  friend  there  terms  it  —  I,  with 
all  the  willingness  in  the  world  to  chastise  you  or  him  for 
your  impertinence,  must  first  give  you  a  fair  chance  of 
escape,  by  telling  you  that  my  father  was  a  tailor." 

The  countenance  of  Mr.  Kaikes  at  the  conclusion  of  this 
speech  was  a  painful  picture.  He  knocked  the  table  pas- 
sionately, exclaiming: 

"  Who'd  have  thought  it  ?  " 

Yet  he  had  known  it.  But  he  could  not  have  thought  it 
possible  for  a  man  to  own  it  publicly. 

Indeed,  Evan  could  not  have  mentioned  it,  but  for  hot 
fury  and  the  ale.  It  was  the  ale  in  him  expelling  truth ; 
and  certainly,  to  look  at  him,  none  would  have  thought  it. 

"That  will  do,"  said  Laxley,  lacking  the  magnanimity  to 
despise  the  advantage  given  him,  "you  have  chosen  the 
very  best  means  of  saving  your  skins." 

"We'll  come  to  you  when  our  supply  of  clothes  runs 
short,"  added  Harry.     "  A  snip ! " 

"  Pardon  me ! "  said  Evan,  with  his  eyes  slightly  widen- 
ing, "  but  if  you  come  to  me,  I  shall  no  longer  give  you  a 
choice  of  behaviour.  I  wish  you  good  night,  gentlemen.  I 
shall  be  in  this  house,  and  am  to  be  found  here,  till  ten 
o'clock  to-morrow  morning.  Sir,"  he  addressed  the  chair- 
man, "  I  must  apologize,  to  you  for  this  interruption  to  your 
kindness,  for  which  I  thank  you  very  sincerely.  It's  '  good 
night,'  now,  sir,"  he  pursued,  bowing,  and  holding  out  his 
hand,  with  a  smile. 

The  chairman  grasped  it:   "You're  a  hot-headed  young 


124  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

fool,  sir :  you're  an  ill-tempered  ferocious  young  ass.  Can't 
you  see  another  young  donkey  without  joining  company  in 
kicks  —  eh  ?  Sit  down,  and  don't  dare  to  spoil  the  fun  any 
more.  You  a  tailor !  Who'll  believe  it  ?  You're  a  noble- 
man in  disguise.  Didn't  your  friend  say  so  ?  —  ha!  ha!  Sit 
down."  He  pulled  out  his  watch,  and  proclaiming  that  he 
was  born  into  this  world  at  the  hour  about  to  strike,  called 
for  a  bumper  all  round. 

While  such  of  the  company  as  had  yet  legs  and  eyes 
unvanquished  by  the  potency  of  the  ale,  stood  up  to  drink 
and  cheer,  Mark,  the  waiter,  scurried  into  the  room,  and,  to 
the  immense  stupefaction  of  the  chairman,  and  amusement 
of  his  guests,  spread  the  news  of  the  immediate  birth  of  a 
little  stranger  on  the  premises,  who  was  declared  by  Dr. 
Pillie  to  be  a  lusty  boy,  and  for  whom  the  kindly  landlady 
solicited  good  luck  to  be  drunk. 


CHAPTER  XIII 

THE  MATCH   OF   FALLOWFIELD   AGAINST   BECKLET 

The  dramatic  proportions  to  which  ale  will  exalt  the 
sentiments  within  us,  and  our  delivery  of  them,  are  apt  to 
dwindle  and  shrink  even  below  the  natural  elevation  when 
we  look  back  on  them  from  the  hither  shore  of  the  river  of 
sleep  —  in  other  words,  wake  in  the  morning:  and  it  was 
with  no  very  self-satisfied  emotions  that  Evan,  dressing  by 
the  full  light  of  day,  reviewed  his  share  in  the  events  of  the 
preceding  night.  Why,  since  he  had  accepted  his  fate, 
should  he  pretend  to  judge  the  conduct  of  people  his  supe- 
riors in  rank  ?  And  where  was  the  necessity  for  him  to 
thrust  the  fact  of  his  being  that  abhorred  social  pariah  down 
the  throats  of  an  assembly  of  worthy  good  fellows  ?  The 
answer  was,  that  he  had  not  accepted  his  fate :  that  he  con- 
sidered himself  as  good  a  gentleman  as  any  man  living,  and 
was  in  absolute  hostility  with  the  prejudices  of  society. 
That  was  the  state  of  the  case :  but  the  evaporation  of  ale 
in  his  brain  caused  him  to  view  his  actions  from  the  humble 


MATCH   OF   FALLOW  FIELD   AGAINST   BECKLEY      125 

extreme  of  that  delightful  liquor,  of  which  the  spirit  had 
flown  and  the  corpse  remained. 

Having  revived  his  system  with  soda-water,  and  finding 
no  sign  of  his  antagonist  below,  Mr.  Eaikes,  to  disperse  the 
sceptical  dimples  on  his  friend's  face,  alluded  during  break- 
fast to  a  determination  he  had  formed  to  go  forth  and  show 
on  the  cricket-field. 

"For,  you  know,"  he  observed,  "they  can't  have  any 
objection  to  fight  me." 

Evan,  slightly  colouring,  answered :  "  Why,  you  said  up- 
stairs, you  thought  fighting  duels  disgraceful  folly." 

"  So  it  is,  so  it  is ;  everybody  knows  that,"  returned  Jack ; 
"  but  what  can  a  gentleman  do  ?  " 

"  Be  a  disgraceful  fool,  I  suppose,"  said  Evan :  and  Eaikes 
went  on  with  his  breakfast,  as  if  to  be  such  occasionally  was 
the  distinguished  fate  of  a  gentleman,  of  which  others,  not 
so  happy  in  their  birth,  might  well  be  envious. 

He  could  not  help  betraying  that  he  bore  in  mind  the 
main  incidents  of  the  festival  over-night ;  for  when  he  had 
inquired  who  it  might  be  that  had  reduced  his  friend  to  w^r 
mourning,  and  heard  that  it  was  his  father  (spoken  by  Evan 
with  a  quiet  sigh),  Mr.  Raikes  tapped  an  egg,  and  his  flexible 
brows  exhibited  a  whole  Bar  of  contending  arguments  within. 
More  than  for  the  love  of  pleasure,  he  had  spent  his  money 
to  be  taken  for  a  gentleman.  He  naturally  thought  highly 
of  the  position,  having  bought  it.  But  Raikes  appreciated 
a  capital  fellow,  and  felt  warmly  to  Evan,  who,  moreover, 
was  feeding  him. 

If  not  born  a  gentleman,  this  Harrington  had  the  look  of 
one,  and  was  pleasing  in  female  eyes,  as  the  landlady,  now 
present,  bore  witness,  wishing  them  good  morning,  and 
hoping  they  had  slept  well.  She  handed  to  Evan  his  purse, 
telling  him  she  had  taken  it  last  night,  thinking  it  safer  for 
the  time  being  in  her  pocket ;  and  that  the  chairman  of  the 
feast  paid  for  all  in  the  Green  Dragon  up  to  twelve  that 
day,  he  having  been  born  between  the  hours,  and  liking  to 
make  certain :  and  that  every  year  he  did  the  same ;  and 
was  a  seemingly  rough  old  gentleman,  but  as  soft-hearted 
as  a  chicken.  His  name  must  positively  not  be  inquired, 
she  said;  to  be  thankful  to  him  was  to  depart,  asking  no 
questions. 


126  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"  And  with  a  dart  in  the  bosom  from  those  eyes  —  those 
eyes !  "  cried  Jack,  shaking  his  head  at  the  landlady's  resist- 
less charms. 

"  I  hope  you  was  not  one  of  the  gentlemen  who  came  and 
disturbed  us  last  night,  sir  ?  "  she  turned  on  him  sharply. 

Jack  dallied  with  the  imputation,  but  denied  his  guilt. 

"  No ;  it  wasn't  your  voice,"  continued  the  landlady.  "  A 
parcel  of  young  puppies  calling  themselves  gentlemen !  I 
know  him.  It's  that  young  Mr.  Laxley :  and  he  the  nephew 
of  a  Bishop,  and  one  of  the  Honourables !  and  then  the  poor 
gals  get  the  blame.  I  call  it  a  shame,  I  do.  There's  that 
poor  young  creature  up-stairs  —  somebody's  victim  she  is : 
and  nobody's  to  suffer  but  herself,  the  little  fool ! " 

"Yes,"  said  Eaikes.  "Ah!  we  regret  these  things  in 
after  life ! "  and  he  looked  as  if  he  had  many  gentlemanly 
burdens  of  the  kind  on  his  conscience. 

"It's  a  wonder,  to  my  mind,"  remarked  the  landlady, 
when  she  had  placidly  surveyed  Mr.  Raikes,  "  how  young 
gals  can  let  some  of  you  men-folk  mislead  'em." 

She  turned  from  him  huffily,  and  addressed  Evan :  "  The 
old  gentleman  is  gone,  sir.  He  slept  on  a  chair,  breakfasted, 
and  was  off  before  eight.  He  left  word,  as  the  child  was 
born  on  his  birthnight,  he'd  provide  for  it,  and  pay  the 
mother's  bill,  unless  you  claimed  the  right.  I'm  afraid  he 
suspected  —  what  I  never,  never  —  no !  but  by  what  •  I've 
seen  of  you  —  never  will  believe.  For  you,  I'd  say,  must  be 
a  gentleman,  whatever  your  company.  She  asks  one  favour 
of  you,  sir:  — for  you  to  go  and  let  her  speak  to  you  once 
before  you  go  away  for  good.  She's  asleep  now,  and  mustn't 
be  disturbed.  Will  you  do  it,  by-and-by  ?  Please  to  com- 
fort the  poor  creature,  sir." 

Evan  consented.  I  am  afraid  also  it  was  the  landlady's 
flattering  speech  made  him,  without  reckoning  his  means, 
add  that  the  young  mother  and  her  child  must  be  considered 
under  his  care,  and  their  expenses  charged  to  him.  The 
landlady  was  obliged  to  think  him  a  wealthy  as  well  as  a 
noble  youth,  and  admiringly  curtsied. 

Mr.  John  Raikes  and  Mr.  Evan  Harrington  then  strolled 
into  the  air,  and  through  a  long  court-yard,  with  brewhouse 
and  dairy  on  each  side,  and  a  pleasant  smell  of  baking  bread, 
and  dogs  winking  in  the  sun,  cats  at  the  corners  of  doors, 


MATCH  OF  FALLOWFIELD   AGAIXST   BECKLEY      127 

satisfied  with  life,  and  turkeys  parading,  and  fowls,  strutting 
cocks,  that  overset  the  dignity  of  Mr.  Eaikes  by  awakening 
his  imitative  propensities.  Certain  white-capped  women, 
who  were  washing  in  a  tub,  laughed,  and  one  observed : 
"  He's  for  all  the  world  like  the  little  bantam  cock  stickin' 
'self  up  in  a  crow  against  the  Spaniar'."  And  this,  and  the 
landlady's  marked  deference  to  Evan,  induced  Mr.  Raikes 
contemptuously  to  glance  at  our  national  blindness  to  the 
true  diamond,  and  worship  of  the  mere  plumes  in  which  a 
person  is  dressed. 

They  passed  a  pretty  flower-garden,  and  entering  a 
smooth-shorn  meadow,  beheld  the  downs  beautifully  clear 
under  sunlight  and  slowly-sailing  images  of  cloud.  At  the 
foot  of  the  downs,  on  a  plain  of  grass,  stood  a  white  booth 
topped  by  a  flag,  which  signalled  that  on  that  spot  Fallow- 
field  and  Beckley  were  contending. 

"  A  singular  old  -gentleman !  A  very  singular  old  gentle- 
man, that ! "  Raikes  observed,  following  an  idea  that  had 
been  occupying  him.  "We  did  wrong  to  miss  him.  We 
ought  to  have  waylaid  him  in  the  morning.  Never  miss  a 
chance,  Harrington." 

"  What  chance  ?  "  Evan  inquired. 

"Those  old  gentlemen  are  very  odd,"  Jack  pursued: 
"very  strange.  He  wouldn't  have  judged  me  by  my  at- 
tire. Admetus'  flocks  I  guard,  yet  am  a  God!  Dress  is 
nothing  to  those  old  cocks.  He's  an  eccentric.  I  know 
it ;  I  can  see  it.  He's  a  corrective  of  Cudf ord,  who  is 
abhorrent  to  my  soul.  To  give  you  an  instance,  now,  of 
what  those  old  boys  will  do  —  I  remember  my  father  tak- 
ing me,  when  I  was  quite  a  youngster,  to  a  tavern  he  fre- 
quented, and  we  met  one  night  just  such  an  old  fellow  as 
this ;  and  the  waiter  told  us  afterwards  that  he  noticed  me 
particularly.  He  thought  me  a  very  remarkable  boy  —  pre- 
dicted great  things.  For  some  reason  or  other  my  father 
never  took  me  there  again.  I  remember  our  having  a  Welsh 
rarebit  there  for  supper,  and  when  the  waiter  last  night  men- 
tioned a  rarebit,  'gad  he  started  up  before  me.  I  gave  chase 
into  my  early  youth.  However,  my  father  never  took  me  to 
meet  the  old  fellow  again.     I  believe  it  lost  me  a  fortime." 

Evan's  thoughts  were  leaping  to  the  cricket-field,  or  he 
would  have  condoled  with  Mr.  Raikes  for  a  loss  that  evi- 
dently afflicted  him  still. 


128  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Now,  it  must  be  told  that  the  lady's  maid  of  Mrs.  Andrew 
Cogglesby,  borrowed  temporarily  by  the  Countess  de  Saldar 
for  service  at  Beckley  Court,  had  slept  in  charge  of  the 
Countess's  boxes  at  the  Green  Dragon :  the  Countess  hav- 
ing told  her,  with  the  candour  of  high-born  dames  to  their 
attendants,  that  it  would  save  expense ;  and  that,  besides, 
Admiral  Combleman,  whom  she  was  going  to  see,  or  Sir  Per- 
kins Ripley  (her  father's  old  friend),  whom  she  should  visit 
if  Admiral  Combleman  was  not  at  his  mansion  —  both  were 
likely  to  have  full  houses,  and  she  could  not  take  them  by 
storm.  An  arrangement  which  left  her  upwards  of  twelve 
hours'  liberty,  seemed  highly  proper  to  Maria  Conning,  this 
lady's  maid,  a  very  demure  young  person.  She  was  at  her 
bed-room  window,  as  Evan  passed  up  the  court-yard  of  the 
inn,  and  recognized  him  immediately.  "  Can  it  be  him  they 
mean  that's  the  low  tradesman  ?  "  was  Maria's  mysterious 
exclamation.  She  examined  the  pair,  and  added :  "  Oh,  no. 
It  must  be  the  tall  one  they  mistook  for  the  small  one.  But 
Mr.  Harrington  ought  not  to  demean  himself  by  keeping 
company  with  such,  and  my  lady  should  know  of  it." 

My  lady,  alighting  from  the  Lymport  coach,  did  know 
of  it,  within  a  few  minutes  after  Evan  had  quitted  the 
Green  Dragon,  and  turned  pale,  as  high-born  dames  natu- 
rally do  when  they  hear  of  a  relative's  disregard  of  the  com- 
pany he  keeps. 

"  A  tailor,  my  lady ! "  said  scornful  Maria ;  and  the  Coun- 
tess jumped  and  complained  of  a  pin. 

"  How  did  you  hear  of  this,  Conning  ?  "  she  presently 
asked  with  composure. 

"  Oh,  my  lady,  he  was  tipsj  last  night,  and  kept  swearing 
out  loud  he  was  a  gentleman." 

"  Tipsy ! "  the  Countess  murmured  in  terror.  She  had 
heard  of  inaccessible  truths  brought  to  light  by  the  magic 
wand  of  alcohol.  Was  Evan  intoxicated,  and  his  dreadful 
secret  unlocked  last  night  ? 

"  And  who  may  have  told  you  of  this,  Conning  ?  "  she  asked. 

Maria  plunged  into  one  of  the  boxes,  and  was  understood 
to  say  that  nobody  in  particular  had  told  her,  but  that 
among  other  flying  matters  it  had  come  to  her  ears. 

"My  brother  is  Charity  itself,"  sighed  the  Countess. 
"  He  welcomes  high  or  low." 


MATCH   OF   FALLOWFIELD   AGAINST  BECKLEY      129 

"  Yes,  but,  my  lady,  a  tailor ! "  Maria  repeated,  and  the 
Countess,  agreeing  with  her  scorn  as  she  did,  could  have 
killed  her.  At  least  she  would  have  liked  to  run  a  bodkin 
into  her,  and  make  her  scream.  In  her  position  she  coxild 
not  always  be  Charity  itself :  nor  is  this  the  required  char- 
acter for  a  high-born  dame :  so  she  rarely  affected  it. 

"  Order  a  fly :  discover  the  direction  Mr.  Harrington  has 
taken;  spare  me  further  remarks,"  she  said;  and  Maria 
humbly  flitted  from  her  presence. 

When  she  was  gone,  the  Countess  covered  her  face  with 
her  hands.  "  Even  this  creature  would  despise  us ! "  she 
exclaimed. 

The  young  lady  encountered  by  Mr.  Raikes  on  the  road 
to  Fallowfield,  was  wrong  in  saying  that  Beckley  would  be 
seen  out  before  the  shades  of  evening  caught  up  the  ball. 
Not  one,  but  two  men  of  Beckley  —  the  last  two  —  carried 
out  their  bats,  cheered  handsomely  by  both  parties.  The 
wickets  pitched  in  the  morning,  they  carried  them  in  again, 
and  plaudits  renewed  proved  that  their  fame  had  not  slum- 
bered. To  stand  before  a  field,  thoroughly  aware  that  every 
successful  stroke  you  make  is  adding  to  the  hoards  of 
applause  in  store  for  you  —  is  a  joy  to  your  friends,  an 
exasperation  to  your  foes ;  —  I  call  this  an  exciting  situation, 
and  one  as  proud  as  a  man  may  desire.  Then,  again,  the 
two  last  men  of  an  eleven  are  twins:  they  hold  one  life 
between  them ;  so  that  he  who  dies  extinguishes  the  other. 
Your  faculties  are  stirred  to  their  depths.  You  become 
engaged  in  the  noblest  of  rivalries  :  in  defending  your  own, 
you  fight  for  your  comrade's  existence.  You  are  assured 
that  the  dread  of  shame,  if  not  emulation,  is  making  him 
equally  wary  and  alert. 

Behold,  then,  the  two  bold  men  of  Beckley  fighting  to 
preserve  one  life.  Under  the  shadow  of  the  downs  they 
stand,  beneath  a  glorious  day,  and  before  a  gallant  company. 
For  there  are  ladies  in  carriages  here,  there  are  cavaliers; 
good  county  names  may  be  pointed  out.  The  sons  of  first- 
rate  families  are  in  the  two  elevens,  mingled  with  the  yeo- 
men and  whoever  can  best  do  the  business.  Fallowfield 
and  Beckley,  without  regard  to  rank,  have  drawn  upon  their 
muscle  and  science.  One  of  the  bold  men  of  Beckley  at 
the  wickets  is  Nick  Frim,  son  of  the  gamekeeper  at  Beckley 


130  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Court;  the  other  is  young  Tom  Copping,  son  of  Squire 
Copping,  of  Dox  Hall,  in  the  parish  of  Beckley.  Last  year, 
you  must  know,  Fallowfield  beat.  That  is  why  Nick  Frim, 
a  renowned  out-hitter,  good  to  finish  a  score  brilliantly  with 
a  pair  of  threes,  has  taken  to  blocking,  and  Mr.  Tom  cuts 
with  caution,  though  he  loves  to  steal  his  runs,  and  is 
usually  dismissed  by  his  remarkable  cunning. 

The  field  was  ringing  at  a  stroke  of  Nick  Frim's,  who 
had  lashed  out  in  his  old  familiar  style  at  last,  and  the 
heavens  heard  of  it,  when  Evan  came  into  the  circle  of 
spectators.  Nick  and  Tom  were  stretching  from  post  to 
post,  might  and  main.  A  splendid  four  was  scored.  The 
field  took  breath  with  the  heroes ;  and  presume  not  to  doubt 
that  heroes  they  are.  It  is  good  to  win  glory  for  your 
country ;  it  is  also  good  to  win  glory  for  your  village.  A 
Member  of  Parliament,  Sir  George  Lowton,  notes  this  em- 
phatically, from  the  statesman's  eminence,  to  a  group  of 
gentlemen  on  horseback  round  a  carriage  wherein  a  couple 
of  fair  ladies  reclined. 

"They  didn't  shout  more  at  the  news  of  the  Battle  of 
Waterloo.  Now  this  is  our  peculiarity,  this  absence  of 
extreme  centralization.  It  must  be  encouraged.  Local 
jealousies,  local  rivalries,  local  triumphs  —  these  are  the 
strength  of  the  kingdom." 

"  If  you  mean  to  say  that  cricket's  a "  the  old  squire 

speaking  (Squire  Uploft  of  Fallowfield)  remembered  the 
saving  presences,  and  coughed  —  "  good  thing,  I'm  one  with 
ye.  Sir  George.  Encouraged,  egad!  They  don't  want  much 
of  that  here.  Give  some  of  your  lean  London  straws  a  strip 
o'  clean  grass  and  a  bit  o'  liberty,  and  you'll  do  'em  a  service." 

"  What  a  beautiful  hit ! "  exclaimed  one  of  the  ladies, 
languidly  watching  the  ascent  of  the  ball. 

"  Beautiful,  d'ye  call  it  ?  "  muttered  the  squire. 

The  ball,  indeed,  was  dropping  straight  into  the  hands  of 
the  long-hit-off.  Instantly  a  thunder  rolled.  But  it  was 
Beckley  that  took  the  joyful  treble  —  Fallowfield  the  deeply-  ■ 
cursing  bass.  The  long-hit-off,  he  who  never  was  known 
to  miss  a  catch  —  butter-fingered  beast! — he  has  let  the 
ball  slip  through  his  fingers. 

Are  there  Gods  in  the  air?  Fred  Linnington,  the  un- 
fortunate of  Fallowfield,  with  a  whole  year  of  unhappy 


MATCH   OF  FALLOWFIELD   AGAINST   BECKLEY      131 

recollection  haunting  him  in  prospect,  ere  he  can  retrieve 
his  character  —  Fred,  if  he  does  not  accuse  the  powers  of  the 
sky,  protests  that  he  cannot  understand  it,  which  means  the 
same.  Fairfield's  defeat  —  should  such  be  the  result  of 
the  contest  —  he  knows  now  will  be  laid  at  his  door.  Five 
men  who  have  bowled  at  the  indomitable  Beckleyans  think 
the  same.  Albeit  they  are  Britons,  it  abashes  them.  They 
are  not  the  men  they  were.  Their  bowling  is  as  the  bowling 
of  babies;  and  see!  Nick,  who  gave  the  catch,  and  pretends 
he  did  it  out  of  commiseration  for  Fallowfield,  the  ball  has 
flown  from  his  bat  sheer  over  the  booth.  If  they  don't  add 
six  to  the  score,  it  ^vill  be  the  fault  of  their  legs.  But  no : 
they  rest  content  with  a  fiver.  Yet  more  they  mean  to  do, 
and  cherish  their  wind.  Success  does  not  turn  the  heads  of 
these  Britons,  as  it  would  of  your  frivolous  foreigners. 

And  now  small  boys  (who  represent  the  Press  here)  spread 
out  from  the  marking-booth,  announcing  foremost,  and  in 
larger  type,  as  it  were,  quite  in  Press  style,  their  opinion  — 
which  is,  that  Fallowfield  will  get  a  jolly  good  hiding ;  and 
vociferating  that  Beckley  is  seventy-nine  ahead,  and  that 
Nick  Frim,  the  favourite  of  the  field,  has  scored  fifty-one  to 
his  own  cheek.  The  boys  are  boys  of  both  villages :  but 
they  are  British  boys — they  adore  prowess.  *The  Fallow- 
field boys  wish  that  Nick  Frim  would  come  and  live  on  their 
side ;  the  boys  of  Beckley  rejoice  in  possessing  him.  Nick 
is  the  wicket-keeper  of  the  Beckley  eleven;  long-limbed, 
■wiry,  keen  of  eye.  His  fault  as  a  batsman  is,  that  he  will 
be  a  slashing  hitter.  He  is  too  sensible  of  the  joys  of  a 
grand  spanking  hit.  A  short  life  and  a  merry  one,  has 
hitherto  been  his  motto. 

But  there  were  reasons  for  Nick's  rare  display  of  skill. 
That  woman  may  have  the  credit  due  to  her  (and,  as  there 
never  was  a  contest  of  which  she  did  not  sit  at  the  springs, 
so  is  she  the  source  of  all  superhuman  efforts  exhibited  by 
men),  be  it  told  that  Polly  Wheedle  is  on  the  field ;  Polly, 
one  of  the  upper  housemaids  of  Beckley  Court;  Polly, 
eagerly  courted  by  Fred  Linnington,  humbly  desired  by 
Nick  Frim  —  a  pert  and  blooming  maiden  —  who,  while  her 
suitors  combat  hotly  for  an  undivided  smile,  improves  her 
holiday  by  instilling  similar  unselfish  aspirations  into  the 
breasts  of  others. 


132  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Between  his  enjoyment  of  society  and  the  melancholy  it 
engendered  in  his  mind  by  reflecting  on  him  the  age  and 
decrepitude  of  his  hat,  Mr.  John  Raikes  was  doubtful  of  his 
happiness  for  some  time.  But  as  his  taste  for  happiness 
was  sharp,  he,  with  a  great  instinct  amounting  almost  to 
genius  in  its  pursuit,  resolved  to  extinguish  his  suspicion  by 
acting  the  perfectly  happy  man.  To  do  this,  it  was  neces- 
sary that  he  should  have  listeners :  Evan  was  not  enough, 
and  was  besides  unsympathetic ;  he  had  not  responded  to 
Jack's  cordial  assurances  of  his  friendship  "in  spite  of  any- 
thing,'" uttered  before  they  came  into  the  field. 

Heat  and  lustre  were  now  poured  from  the  sky,  on  whose 
soft  blue  a  fleet  of  clouds  sailed  heavily.  Nick  Frim  was 
very  wonderful,  no  doubt.  He  deserved  that  the  Gods 
should  recline  on  those  gold-edged  cushions  above,  and  lean 
over  to  observe  him.  Nevertheless,  the  ladies  were  begin- 
ning to  ask  when  Nick  Frim  would  be  out.  The  small 
boys  alone  preserved  their  enthusiasm  for  Nick.  As  usual, 
the  men  took  a  middle  position.  Theirs  was  the  pleasure 
of  critics,  which,  being  founded  on  the  judgement,  lasts 
long,  and  is  without  disappointment  at  the  close.  It  was 
sufficient  that  the  ladies  should  lend  the  inspiration  of  their 
bonnets  to  this  fine  match.  Their  presence  on  the  field  is 
another  beautiful  instance  of  the  generous  yielding  of  the 
sex  simply  to  grace  our  amusement,  and  their  acute  per- 
ception of  the  part  they  have  to  play. 

Mr.  Raikes  was  rather  shy  of  them  at  first.  But  his 
acting  rarely  failing  to  deceive  himself,  he  began  to  feel 
himself  the  perfectly  happy  man  he  impersonated,  and 
where  there  were  ladies  he  went,  and  talked  of  days  when 
he  had  creditably  handled  a  bat,  and  of  a  renown  in  the 
annals  of  Cricket  cut  short  by  mysterious  calamity.  The 
foolish  fellow  did  not  know  that  they  care  not  a  straw  for 
cricketing  fame.  His  gaiety  presently  forsook  him  as 
quickly  as  it  had  come.  Instead  of  remonstrating  at  Evan's 
restlessness,  it  was  he  who  now  dragged  Evan  from  spot 
to  spot.     He  spoke  low  and  nervously. 

"  We're  watched ! " 

There  was  indeed  a  man  lurking  near  and  moving  as  they 
moved,  with  a  speculative  air.  Writs  were  out  against 
Raikes.     He  slipped  from  his  friend,  saying:  "Never  mind 


MATCH  OF   FALLOWFIELD   AGAINST   BECKLBY      133 

me.  That  old  aniphitryon's  birthday  hangs  on  till  the 
meridian;  you  understand.  His  talile  invites.  He  is  not 
unlikely  to  enjoy  my  conversation.  What  mayn't  that 
lead  to  ?     Seek  me  there." 

Evan  strolled  on,  relieved  by  the  voluntary  departure  of 
the  weariful  funny  friend  he  would  not  shake  off,  but  could 
not  well  link  with. 

A  long  success  is  better  when  seen  at  a  distance  of  time, 
and  Nick  Frim  was  beginning  to  suffer  from  the  monotony 
of  his  luck.  Fallowfield  could  do  nothing  with  him.  He 
no  longer  blocked.  He  lashed  out  at  every  ball,  and  far 
flew  every  ball  that  was  bowled.  The  critics  saw,  in  this 
return  to  his  old  practices,  promise  of  Nick's  approaching 
extinction.  The  ladies  were  growing  hot  and  weary.  The 
little  boys  gasped  on  the  grass,  but  like  cunning  circulators 
of  excitement,  spread  a  report  to  keep  it  up,  that  Nick,  on 
going  to  his  wickets  the  previous  day,  had  sworn  an  oath 
that  he  would  not  lay  down  his  bat  till  he  had  scored  a 
hundred.  So  they  had  still  matter  to  agitate  their  youthful 
breasts,  and  Nick's  gradual  building  up  of  tens,  and  prophe- 
cies and  speculations  as  to  his  chances  of  completing  the 
hundred,  were  still  vehemently  confided  to  the  field,  amid 
a  general  mopping  of  faces. 

Evan  did  become  aware  that  a  man  was  following  him. 
The  man  had  not  the  look  of  a  dreaded  official.  His  coun- 
tenance was  sun-burnt  and  open,  and  he  was  dressed  in  a 
countryman's  holiday  suit.  When  Evan  met  his  eyes,  they 
showed  perplexity.  Evan  felt  he  was  being  examined  from 
head  to  heel,  but  by  one  unaccustomed  to  his  part,  and 
without  the  courage  to  decide  what  he  ought  consequently 
to  do  while  a  doubt  remained,  though  his  inspection  was 
verging  towards  a  certainty  in  his  mind. 

At  last,  somewhat  annoyed  that  the  man  should  continue 
to  dog  him  wherever  he  moved,  he  turned  on  him  and  asked 
him  what  he  wanted  ? 

"Be  you  a  Muster  Evv'n  Harrington,  Esquire?"  the  man 
drawled  out  in  the  rustic  music  of  inquiry. 

"That  is  my  name,"  said  Evan. 

"Ay,"  returned  the  man,  "it's  somebody  lookin'  like  a 
lord,  and  has  a  small  friend  wi'  shockin'  old  hat,  and  I  see 
ye  come  out  o'  the  Green  Drag'n  this  mornin'  —  I  don't 


134  EVAN  HAKEINGTON 

reck'n  there's  e'er  a  mistaak,  but  I  likes  to  make  cock  sure. 
Be  you  been  to  Poortigal,  sir?  " 

"  Yes,"  answered  Evan,  "I  have  been  to  Portugal." 

"  What's  the  name  o'  the  capital  o'  Poortigal,  sir?  "  The 
■  man  looked  immensely  shrewd,  and  nodding  his  consent  at 
the  laughing  reply,  added: 

"And  there  you  was  born,  sir?  You'll  excuse  my  bold- 
ness, but  I  only  does  what's  necessary." 

Evan  said  he  was  not  born  there. 

"No,  not  born  there.  That's  good.  Now,  sir,  did  you 
happen  to  be  born  anywheres  within  smell  o'  salt  water?  " 

"Yes,"  answered  Evan,  "I  was  born  by  the  sea." 

"Not  far  beyond  fifty  mile  from  Fall'field  here,  sir?" 

"Something  less." 

"  All  right.  Now  I'm  cock  sure, "  said  the  man.  "  Now, 
if  you'll  have  the  kindness  just  to  oblige  me  by  —  "  he  sped 
the  words  and  the  instrument  jointly  at  Evan,  "  —  takin' 
that  there  letter,  I'll  say  good-bye,  sir,  and. my  work's 
done  for  the  day." 

Saying  which,  he  left  Evan  with  the  letter  in  his  hands. 

Evan  turned  it  over  curiously.  It  was  addressed  to  "  Evan 
Harrington,  Esquire,  T of  Lymport." 

A  voice  paralyzed  his  fingers :  the  clear  ringing  voice  of 
a  young  horsewoman,  accompanied  by  a  little  maid  on  a 
pony,  who  galloped  up  to  the  carriage  upon  which  Squire 
Uploft,  Sir  George  Lowton,  Hamilton  Jocelyn,  and  other 
cavaliers,  were  in  attendance. 

"Here  I  am  at  last,  and  Beckley's  in  still!  How  d'ye 
do,  Lady  Koseley?  How  d'ye  do.  Sir  George.  How  d'ye 
do,  everybody.  Your  servant.  Squire !  We  shall  beat  you. 
Harry  says  we  shall  soon  be  a  hundred  a-head  of  you. 
Fancy  those  boys!  they  would  sleep  at  Fallowfield  last 
night.     How  I  wish  you  had  made  a  bet  with  me,  Squire." 

"Well,  my  lass,  it's  not  too  late,"  said  the  squire,  detain- 
ing her  hand. 

"  Oh,  but  it  wouldn't  be  fair  now.  And  I'm  not  going 
to  be  kissed  on  the  field,  if  you  please,  Squire.  Here, 
Dorry  will  do  instead.  Dorry !  come  and  be  kissed  by  the 
squire." 

It  was  Rose,  living  and  glowing;  Rose,  who  was  the 
brilliant  young  Amazon,  smoothing  the  neck  of  a  mettle- 


MATCH   OF   FALLOWFIELD   AGAINST   BECKLEY      135 

some  grey  cob.  Evan's  heart  bounded  up  to  her,  but  his 
limbs  were  motionless. 

The  squire  caught  her  smaller  companion  in  his  arms, 
and  sounded  a  kiss  upon  both  her  cheeks ;  then  settled  her 
in  the  saddle,  and  she  went  to  answer  some  questions  of 
the  ladies.  She  had  the  same  lively  eyes  as  Kose;  quick 
saucy  lips,  red,  and  open  for  prattle.  Kolls  of  auburn  hair 
fell  down  her  back,  for  being  a  child  she  was  allowed  privi- 
leges. To  talk  as  her  thoughts  came,  as  well  as  to  wear 
her  hair  as  it  grew,  was  a  special  privilege  of  this  young 
person,  on  horseback  or  elsewhere. 

"  Now,  I  know  what  you  want  to  ask  me.  Aunt  Shorne. 
Isn't  it  about  my  Papa?  He's  not  come,  and  he  won't  be 
able  to  come  for  a  week.  — Glad  to  be  with  Cousin  Rosey? 
I  should  think  I  am!  She's  the  nicest  girl  I  ever  could 
suppose.  She  isn't  a  bit'spoiled  by  Portugal ;  only  browned ; 
and  she  doesn't  care  for  that;  no  more  do  I.  I  rather  like 
the  sun  when  it  doesn't /recArZe  you.  I  can't  bear  freckles, 
and  I  don't  believe  in  milk  for  them.  People  who  have 
them  are  such  a  figure.  Drummond  Forth  has  them,  but 
he's  a  man,  and  it  doesn't  matter  for  a  man  to  have  freckles. 

—  How's  my  uncle  Mel?  Oh,  he's  quite  well.  I  mean  he 
has  the  gout  in  one  of  his  fingers,  and  it's  swollen  so,  it's 
just  like  a  great  fat  fir  cone!  He  can't  write  a  bit,  and 
rests  his  hand  on  a  table.  He  wants  to  have  me  made  to 
write  with  my  left  hand  as  well  as  my  right.  As  if  I  was 
ever  going  to  have  the  gout  in  one  of  my  fingers ! " 

Sir  George  Lowton  observed  to  Hamilton  Jocelyn,  that 
Melville  must  take  to  his  tongue  now. 

"I  fancy  he  will,"  said  Hamilton.  "My  father  won't 
give  up  his  nominee;  so  I  fancy  he'll  try  Pallowfield.  Of 
course,  we  go  in  for  the  agricultural  interest;  but  there's  a 
cantankerous  old  ruffian  down  here  —  a  brewer,  or  something 

—  he's  got  half  the  votes  at  his  bidding.     We  shall  see." 
"Dorothy,  my  dear  child,  are  you  not  tired?"  said  Lady 

Roseley.     "You  are  very  hot." 

"Yes,  that's  because  Rose  would  tear  along  the  road  to 
get  here  in  time,  after  we  had  left  those  tiresome  Copping 
people,  where  she  had  to  make  a  call.  'What  a  slow  little 
beast  your  pony  is,  Dorry ! '  —  she  said  that  at  least  twenty 
times." 


136  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"Oh,  you  naughty  puss!"  cried  Rose.  "Wasn't  it, 
'Rosey,  Rosey,  I'm  sure  we  shall  be  too  late,  and  shan't 
see  a  thing:  do  come  along  as  hard  as  you  can? '  " 

"I'm  sure  it  was  not,"  Miss  Dorothy  retorted,  with  the 
large  eyes  of  innocence.  "You  said  you  wanted  to  see 
Nick  Frim  keeping  the  wicket,  and  Ferdinand  Laxley  bowl. 
And,  oh !  you  know  something  you  said  about  Drummond 
Forth." 

"Now,  shall  I  tell  upon  you?  "  said  Rose. 

"  No,  don't !  "  hastily  replied  the  little  woman,  blushing. 
And  the  cavaliers  laughed  out,  and  the  ladies  smiled,  and 
Dorothy  added:  "It  isn't  much,  after  all." 

"Then,  come;  let's  have  it,  or  I  shall  be  jealous,"  said 
the  squire. 

"Shall  I  tell?"  Rose  asked  slily. 

"It's  unfair  to  betray  one  of  your  sex.  Rose,"  remarked 
the  sweetly-smiling  lady. 

"Yes,  Lady  Roseley  —  mayn't  a  woman  have  secrets?" 
Dorothy  put  it  with  great  natural  earnestness,  and  they  all 
laughed  aloud.  "But  I  know  a  secret  of  Rosey 's,"  con- 
tinued Miss  Dorothy,  "and  if  she  tells  upon  me,  I  shall 
tell  upon  her." 

"They're  out!"  cried  Rose,  pointing  her  whip  at  the 
wickets.  "Good  night  to  Beckley!  Tom  Copping's  run 
out." 

Questions  as  to  how  it  was  done  passed  from  mouth  to 
mouth.  Questions  as  to  whether  it  was .  fair  sprang  from 
Tom's  friends,  and  that  a  doubt  existed  was  certain :  the 
whole  field  was  seen  converging  toward  the  two  umpires : 
Farmer  Broadmead  for  Fallowfield,  Master  Nat  Hodges  for 
Beckley. 

"It  really  is  a  mercy  there's  some  change  in  the  game," 
said  Mrs.  Shorne,  waving  her  parasol.  "  It's  a  charming 
game,  but  it  wants  variety  —  a  little.  When  do  you  return, 
Rose?" 

"Not  for  some  time,"  said  Rose,  primly.  " I  like  variety 
very  well,  but  I  don't  seek  it  by  running  away  the  moment 
I've  come." 

"No,  but,  ray  dear,"  Mrs.  Shorne  negligently  fanned  her 
face,  "you  will  have  to  come  with  us,  I  fear,  when  we  go. 
Your  uncle  accompanies  us.     I  really  think  the  squire  will. 


MATCH  OF   FALLOWFIELD   AGAINST   BECKLEY      137 

too;  and  Mr.  Forth  is  no  chaperon.  Even  you  understand 
that." 

"Oh,  I  can  get  an  old  man  —  don't  be  afraid,"  said  Rose. 
"  Or  must  I  have  an  old  woman,  aunt?  " 

The  lady  raised  her  eyelids  slowly  on  Rose,  and  thought : 
"If  you  were  soundly  whipped,  my  little  madam,  what  a 
good  thing  it  would  be  for  you."  And  that  good  thing 
Mrs.  Shorne  was  willing  to  do  for  Rose.  She  turned  aside, 
and  received  the  salute  of  an  unmistakeable  curate  on  foot. 

"Ah,  Mr.  Parsley,  you  lend  your  countenance  to  the 
game,  then?" 

The  curate  observed  that  sound  Churchmen  unanimously 
supported  the  game. 

"  Bravo !  "  cried  Rose.  "  How  I  like  to  hear  you  talk  like 
that,  Mr.  Parsley.  I  didn't  think  you  had  so  much  sense. 
You  and  I  will  have  a  game  together  —  single  wicket.  We 
must  play  for  something  —  what  shall  it  be?" 

"Oh  —  for  nothing,"  the  curate  vacuously  remarked. 

"That's  for  love,  you  rogue!"  exclaimed  the  squire. 
"Come,  come,  none  o'  that,  sir  —  ha!  ha!" 

"Oh,  very  well;  we'll  play  for  love,"  said  Rose. 

"And  I'll  hold  the  stakes,  my  dear  —  eh?" 

"You  dear  old  naughty  squire!  —  what  do  you  mean?" 
Rose  laughed.  But  she  had  all  the  men  surrounding  her, 
and  Mrs.  Shorne  talked  of  departing. 

Why  did  not  Evan  bravely  march  away?  Why,  he  asked 
himself,  had  he  come  on  this  cricket-field  to  be  made  thus 
miserable?  What  right  had  such  as  he  to  look  on  Rose? 
Consider,  however,  the  young  man's  excuses.  He  could 
not  possibly  imagine  that  a  damsel  who  rode  one  day  to  a 
match,  would  return  on  the  following  day  to  see  it  finished: 
or  absolutely  know  that  unseen  damsel  to  be  Rose  Jocelyn. 
And  if  he  waited,  it  was  only  to  hear  her  sweet  voice  once 
again,  and  go  for  ever.  As  far  as  he  could  fathom  his 
hopes,  they  were  that  Rose  would  not  see  him:  but  the 
hopes  of  youth  are  deep. 

Just  then  a  toddling  small  rustic  stopped  in  front  of 
Evan,  and  set  up  a  howl  for  his  "fayther."  Evan  lifted 
him  high  to  look  over  people's  heads,  and  discover  his 
wandering  parent.  The  urchin,  when  he  had  settled  to  his 
novel  position,  surveyed  the  field,  and  shouting,  "  Fayther, 


138  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

fayther!  here  I  bes  on  top  of  a  gentleman!"  made  lusty 
signs,  which  attracted  not  his  father  alone.  Kose  sang  out, 
"Who  can  lend  me  a  penny?"  Instantly  the  curate  and 
the  squire  had  a  race  in  their  pockets.  The  curate  was 
first,  but  Rose  favoured  the  squire,  took  his  money  with  a 
nod  and  a  smile,  and  rode  at  the  little  lad,  to  whom  she 
was  saying:  "Here,  bonny  boy,  this  will  buy  you " 

She  stopped  and  coloured. 

"Evan!" 

The  child  descended  rapidly  to  the  ground. 

A  bow  and  a  few  murmured  words  replied  to  her. 

"  Isn't  this  just  like  you,  my  dear  Evan?  Shouldn't  I 
know  that  whenever  I  met  you,  you  would  be  doing  some- 
thing kind?  How  did  you  come  here?  You  were  on  your 
way  to  Beckley ! " 

"To  London,"  said  Evan. 

"To  London!  and  not  coming  over  to  see  me  —  us?" 

Here  the  little  fellow's  father  intervened  to  claim  his 
offspring,  and  thank  the  lady  and  the  gentleman :  and,  with 
his  penny  firmly  grasped,  he  who  had  brought  the  lady  and 
the  gentleman  together,  was  borne  off  a  wealthy  human 
creature. 

Before  much  further  could  be  said  between  them,  the 
Countess  de  Saldar  drove  up. 

"  My  dearest  Rose !  "  and  "  My  dear  Countess !  "  and 
"Not  Louisa,  then?"  and,  "I  am  very  glad  to  see  you!" 
without  attempting  the  endearing  "  Louisa  "  —  passed. 

The  Countess  de  Saldar  then  admitted  the  presence  of 
her  brother. 

"Think!"  said  Rose.  "He  talks  of  going  on  straight 
from  here  to  London." 

"  That  pretty  pout  will  alone  suffice  to  make  him  deviate, 
then,"  said  the  Countess,  with  her  sweetest  open  slyness. 
"  I  am  now  on  the  point  of  accepting  your  most  kind  invi- 
tation. Our  foreign  habits  allow  us  to  visit  —  thus  early ! 
He  will  come  with  me." 

Evan  tried  to  look  firm,  and  speak  as  he  was  trying  to 
look.  Rose  fell  to  entreaty,  and  from  entreaty  rose  to 
command ;  and  in  both  was  utterly  fascinating  to  the  poor 
youth.  Luxuriously  —  while  he  hesitated  and  dwelt  on 
this  and  that  faint  objection  —  his  spirit  drank  the  deli- 


MATCH  OF   FALLOWFIELD   AGAINST   BECKLLEY      139 

cious  changes  of  her  face.  To  have  her  face  before  him  but 
one  day  seemed  so  rich  a  boon  to  deny  himself,  that  he  was 
beginning  to  wonder  at  his  constancy  in  refusal ;  and  now 
that  she  spoke  to  him  so  pressingly,  devoting  her  guileless 
eyes  to  him  alone,  he  forgot  a  certain  envious  feeling  that 
had  possessed  him  while  she  was  rattling  among  the  other 
males  —  a  doubt  whether  she  ever  cast  a  thought  on  Mr. 
Evan  Harrington. 

"Yes;  he  will  come,"  cried  Rose;  "and  he  shall  ride 
home  with  me  and  my  friend  Drummond;  and  he  shall 
have  my  groom's  horse,  if  he  doesn't  mind.  Bob  can  ride 
home  in  the  cart  with  Polly,  my  maid ;  and  he'll  like  that, 
because  Polly's  always  good  fun  —  when  they're  not  in  love 
with  her.     Then,  of  course,  she  torments  them." 

"  Naturally,"  said  the  Countess. 

Mr.  Evan  Harrington's  final  objection,  based  on  his  not 
having  clothes,  and  so  forth,  was  met  by  his  foreseeing 
sister. 

"  I  have  your  portmanteau  packed,  in  with  me,  my  dear 
brother;  Conning  has  her  feet  on  it.  I  divined  that  I 
should  overtake  you." 

Evan  felt  he  was  in  the  toils.  After  a  struggle  or  two  he 
yielded;  and,  having  yielded,  did  it  with  grace.  In  a 
moment,  and  with  a  power  of  self-compression  equal  to  that 
of  the  adept  Countess,  he  threw  off  his  moodiness  as  easily 
as  if  it  had  been  his  Spanish  mantle,  and  assumed  a  gaiety 
that  made  the  Countess's  eyes  beam  rapturously  upon  him, 
and  was  pleasing  to  Rose,  apart  from  the  lead  in  admiration 
the  Countess  had  given  her  —  not  for  the  first  time.  We 
mortals,  the  best  of  us^  may  be  silly  sheep  in  our  likes  and 
dislikes :  where  there  is  no  premeditated  or  instinctive 
antagonism,  we  can  be  led  into  warm  acknowledgment  of 
merits  we  have  not  sounded.  This  the  Countess  de  Saldar 
knew  right  well. 

Rose  now  intimated  her  wish  to  perform  the  ceremony  of 
introduction  between  her  aunt  and  uncle  present,  and  the 
visitors  to  Beckley  Court.  The  Countess  smiled,  and  in  the 
few  paces  that  separated  the  two  groups,  whispered  to  her 
brother:  "3fiss  Jocelyn,  my  dear." 

The  eye-glasses  of  the  Beckley  group  were  dropped  with 
one  accord.     The  ceremony  was  gone  through.     The  softly- 


140  EVAN   HAKRINGTON 

shadowed  differences  of  a  grand  manner  addressed  to  ladies, 
and  to  males,  were  exquisitely  accomplished  by  the  Countess 
de  Saldar. 

"  Harrington  ?  Harrington  ?  "  her  quick  ear  caught  on  the 
mouth  of  Squire  Uploft,  scanning  Evan. 

Her  accent  was  very  foreign,  as  she  said  aloud :  "  We  are 
entirely  strangers  to  your  game — your  creeck^t.  My 
brother  and  myself  are  scarcely  English.  Nothing  save 
diplomacy  are  we  adepts  in ! " 

"  You  must  be  excessively  dangerous,  madam,"  said  Sir 
George,  hat  in  air. 

"Even  in  that,  I  fear,  we  are  babes  and  sucklings,  and 
might  take  many  a  lesson  from  you.  Will  you  instruct  me 
in  your  creeoket  ?  What  are  they  doing  now  ?  It  seems 
very  unintelligible  —  indistinct  —  is  it  not?" 

Inasmuch  as  Farmer  Broadmead  and  Master  Nat  Hodges 
were  surrounded  by  a  clamorous  mob,  shouting  both  sides 
of  the  case,  as  if  the  loudest  and  longest-winded  were  sure 
to  wrest  a  favourable  judgement  from  those  two  infallible 
authorities  on  the  laws  of  cricket,  the  noble  game  was  cer- 
tainly in  a  state  of  indistinctness. 

The  squire  came  forward  to  explain,  piteously  entreated 
not  to  expect  too  much  from  a  woman's  inapprehensive  wits, 
which  he  plainly  promised  (under  eyes  that  had  melted 
harder  men)  he  would  not.  His  forbearance  and  bucolic 
gallantry  were  needed,  for  he  had  the  Countess's  radiant 
full  visage  alone.  Her  senses  were  dancing  in  her  right 
ear,  which  had  heard  the  name  of  Lady  Roseley  pronounced, 
and  a  voice  respond  to  it  from  the  carriage. 

Into  what  a  pit  had  she  suddenly  plunged!  You  ask 
why  she  did  not  drive  away  as  fast  as  the  horses  would 
carry  her,  and  fly  the  veiled  head  of  Demogorgon  obscuring 
valley  and  hill  and  the  shining  firmament,  and  threatening 
to  glare  destruction  on  her  ?  You  do  not  know  an  intriguer. 
She  relinquishes  the  joys  of  life  for  the  joys  of  intrigue. 
This  is  her  element.  The  Countess  did  feel  that  the  heavens 
were  hard  on  her.  She  resolved  none  the  less  to  fight  her 
way  to  her  object;  for  where  so  much  had  conspired  to 
favour  her  —  the  decease  of  the  generous  Sir  Abraham 
Harrington,  of  Torquay,  and  the  invitation  to  Beckley 
Court  —  could  she  believe  the  heavens  in  league  against 


MATCH   OF   FALLOWPIELD   AGAINST   BECKLEY      141 

her  ?  Did  she  not  nightly  pray  to  them,  in  all  humbleness 
of  body,  for  the  safe  issue  of  her  cherished  schemes  ?  And 
in  this,  how  unlike  she  was  to  the  rest  of  mankind !  She 
thought  so;  she  relied  on  her  devout  observances;  they 
gave  her  sweet  confidence,  and  the  sense  of  being  specially 
shielded  even  when  specially  menaced.  Moreover,  tell  a 
woman  to  put  back,  when  she  is  once  clearly  launched! 
Timid  as  she  may  be,  her  light  bark  bounds  to  meet  the 
tempest.  I  speak  of  women  who  do  launch :  they  are  not 
numerous,  but,  to  the  wise,  the  minorities  are  the  representa- 
tives. 

"  Indeed,  it  is  an  intricate  game ! "  said  the  Countess,  at 
the  conclusion  of  the  squire's  explanation,  and  leaned  over 
to  Mrs.  Shorne  to  ask  her  if  she  thoroughly  understood  it. 

"Yes,  I  suppose  I  do,"  was  the  reply;  "it  —  rather  than 
the  amusement  they  find  in  it."  This  lady  had  recovered 
Mr.  Parsley  from  Rose,  but  had  only  succeeded  in  making 
the  curate  unhappy,  without  satisfying  herself. 

The  Countess  gave  her  the  shrug  of  secret  sympathy. 

"We  must  not  say  so,"  she  observed  aloud,  most  art- 
lessly, and  fixed  the  squire  with  a  bewitching  smile,  under 
which  her  heart  beat  thickly.  As  her  eyes  travelled  from 
Mrs.  Shorne  to  the  squire,  she  had  marked  Lady  Roseley 
looking  singularly  at  Evan,  who  was  mounting  the  horse  of 
Bob  the  groom. 

"Fine  young  fellow,  that,"  said  the  squire  to  Lady 
Roseley,  as  Evan  rode  off  with  Rose. 

"An  extremely  handsome,  well-bred  young  man,"  she  an- 
swered. Her  eyes  met  the  Countess's,  and  the  Countess, 
after  resting  on  their  surface  with  an  ephemeral  pause, 
murmured:  "/  must  not  praise  my  brother,"  and  smiled  a 
smile  which  was  meant  to  mean;  "I  think  with  you,  and 
thank  you,  and  love  you  for  admiring  him." 

Had  Lady  Roseley  joined  the  smile  and  spoken  with 
animation  afterwards,  the  Countess  would  have  shuddered 
and  had  chills  of  dread.  As  it  was,  she  was  passably  con- 
tent. Lady  Roseley  slightly  dimpled  her  cheek,  for  cour- 
tesy's sake,  and  then  looked  gravely  on  the  ground.  This 
was  no  promise ;  it  was  even  an  indication  (as  the  Countess 
read  her)  of  something  beyond  suspicion  in  the  lady's  mind; 
but  it  was  a  sign  of  delicacy,  and  a  sign  that  her  feelings  had 


142  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

been  touclied,  from  which  a  truce  might  be  reckoned  on,  and 
no  betrayal  feared. 

She  heard  it  said  that  the  match  was  for  honour  and  glory. 
A  match  of  two  days'  duration  under  a  broiling  sun,  all  for 
honour  and  glory !  Was  it  not  enough  to  make  her  despise 
the  games  of  men?  For  something  better  she  played.  Her 
game  was  for  one  hundred  thousand  pounds,  the  happiness 
of  her  brother,  and  the  concealment  of  a  horror.  To  win 
a  game  like  that  was  worth  the  trouble.  Whether  she 
would  have  continued  her  efforts,  had  she  known  that  the 
name  of  Evan  Harrington  was  then  blazing  on  a  shop-front 
in  Lymport,  I  cannot  tell.  The  possessor  of  the  name  was 
in  love,  and  did  not  reflect. 

Smiling  adieu  to  the  ladies,  bowing  to  the  gentlemen,  and 
apprehending  all  the  homage  they  would  pour  out  to  her  con- 
descending beauty  when  she  had  left  them,  the  Countess's 
graceful  hand  gave  the  signal  for  Beckley. 

She  stopped  the  coachman  ere  the  wheels  had  rolled  off 
the  muffling  turf,  to  enjoy  one  glimpse  of  Evan  and  Rose 
riding  together,  with  the  little  maid  on  her  pony  in  the 
rear.  How  suitable  they  seemed!  how  happy!  She  had 
brought  them  together  after  many  difficulties :  —  might  it 
not  be?    It  was  surely  a  thing  to  be  hoped  for! 

Rose,  galloping  freshly,  was  saying  to  Evan :  "  Why  did 
you  cut  off  your  moustache?" 

He,  neck  and  neck  with  her,  replied :  "  You  complained 
of  it  in  Portugal." 

And  she:  "Portugal's  old  times  now  to  me  —  and  I 
always  love  old  times.  I'm  sorry!  And,  oh,  Evan!  did 
you  really  do  it  for  me?" 

And  really,  just  then,  flying  through  the  air,  close  to  the 
darling  of  his  heart,  he  had  not  the  courage  to  spoil  that 
delicious  question,  but  dallying  with  the  lie,  he  looked  in 
her  eyes  lingeringly. 

This  picture  the  Countess  contemplated.  Close  to  her 
carriage  two  young  gentlemen-cricketers  were  strolling, 
while  Fallowfield  gained  breath  to  decide  which  men  to 
send  in  first  to  the  wickets. 

One  of  these  stood  suddenly  on  tiptoe,  and,  pointing  to 
the  pair  on  horseback,  cried,  with  the  vivacity  of  astonish- 
ment: 


THE  COUNTESS   DESClilBES   THE  FIELD  143 

"Look  there!  do  you  see  that?  What  the  deuce  is  little 
Rosey  doing  with  the  tailor-fellow  ?  " 

The  Countess,  though  her  cheeks  were  blanched,  gazed 
calmly  in  Demogorgon's  face,  took  a  mental  impression  of 
the  speaker,  and  again  signalled  for  Beckley. 


CHAPTER  XIV 

THE   COUNTESS    DESCRIBES   THE   FIELD    OF   ACTION 

Now,  to  clear  up  a  point  or  two:  You  may  think  the 
Comic  Muse  is  straining  hupian  nature  rather  toughly  in 
making  the  Countess  de  Saldar  rush  open-eyed  into  the  jaws 
of  Demogorgon,  dreadful  to  her.  She  has  seen  her  brother 
pointed  out  unmistakeably  as  the  tailor-fellow.  There  is 
yet  time  to  cast  him  off  or  fly  with  him.  Is  it  her  extraor- 
dinary heroism  impelling  her  onward,  or  infatuated  rash- 
ness? or  is  it  her  mere  animal  love  of  conflict? 

The  Countess  de  Saldar,  like  other  adventurers,  has  her 
star.  They  who  possess  nothing  on  earth,  have  a  right  to 
claim  a  portion  of  the  heavens.  In  resolute  hands,  much 
may  be  done  with  a  star.  As  it  has  empires  in  its  gift,  so 
may  it  have  heiresses.  The  Countess's  star  had  not  blinked 
balef  ally  at  her.  That  was  one  reason  why  she  went  straight 
on  to  Beckley. 

Again :  the  Countess  was  a  born  general.  With  her  star 
above,  with  certain  advantages  secured,  with  battalions  of 
lies  disciplined  and  zealous,  and  with  one  clear  prize  in 
view,  besides  other  undeveloped  benefits  dimly  shadowing 
forth,  the  Countess  threw  herself  headlong  into  the  enemy's 
country. 

But,  that  you  may  not  think  too  highly  of  this  lady,  I 
must  add  that  the  trivial  reason  was  the  exciting  cause  — 
as  in  many  great  enterprises.  This  was  nothing  more  than 
the  simple  desire  to  be  located,  if  but  for  a  day  or  two,  on 
the  footing  of  her  present  rank,  in  the  English  country- 
house  of  an  offshoot  of  our  aristocracy.  She  who  had 
moved  in  the  first  society  of  a  foreign  capital  —  who  had 


144  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

married  a  Count,  a  minister  of  his  sovereign,  had  enjoyed 
delicious  high-bred  badinage  with  refulgent  ambassadors, 
could  boast  the  friendship  of  duchesses,  and  had  been  the 
amiable  receptacle  of  their  pardonable  follies;  she  who, 
moreover,  heartily  despised  things  English:  —  this  lady 
experienced  thrills  of  proud  pleasure  at  the  prospect  of 
being  welcomed  at  a  third-rate  English  mansion.  But 
then,  that  mansion  was  Beckley  Court.  We  return  to  our 
first  ambitions,  as  to  our  first  loves:  not  that  they  are 
dearer  to  us,  —  quit  that  delusion :  our  ripened  loves  and 
mature  ambitions  are  probably  closest  to  our  hearts,  as  they 
deserve  to  be  —  but  we  return  to  them  because  our  youth 
has  a  hold  on  us  which  it  asserts  whenever  a  disappoint- 
ment knocks  us  down.  Our  old  loves  (with  the  bad  natures 
I  know  in  them)  are  always  lurking  to  avenge  themselves 
on  the  new  by  tempting  us  to  a  little  retrograde  infidelity. 
A  schoolgirl  in  Fallowfield,  the  tailor's  daughter,  had 
sighed  for  the  bliss  of  Beckley  Court.  Beckley  Court  was 
her  Elysium  ere  the  ardent  feminine  brain  conceived  a 
loftier  summit.  Fallen  from  that  attained  eminence,  she 
sighed  anew  for  Beckley  Court.  Nor  was  this  mere  spir- 
itual longing;  it  had  its  material  side.  At  Beckley  Court 
she  could  feel  her  foreign  rank.  Moving  with  our  nobility 
as  an  equal,  she  could  feel  that  the  short  dazzling  glitter 
of  her  career  was  not  illusory,  and  had  left  her  something 
solid;  not  coin  of  the  realm  exactly,  but  yet  gold.  She 
could  not  feel  this  in  the  Cogglesby  saloons,  among  piti- 
able bourgeoises  —  middle-class  people  daily  soiled  by  the 
touch  of  tradesmen !  They  dragged  her  down.  Their  very 
homage  was  a  mockery. 

Let  the  Countess  have  due  credit  for  still  allowing  Evan 
to  visit  Beckley  Court  to  follow  up  his  chance.  If  Demo- 
gorgon  betrayed  her  there,  the  Count  was  her  protector :  a 
woman  rises  to  her  husband  But  a  man  is  what  he  is, 
and  must  stand  upon  that.  She  was  positive  Evan  had 
committed  himself  in  some  manner.  As  it  did  not  suit  her 
to  think  so,  she  at  once  encouraged  an  imaginary  conver- 
sation, in  which  she  took  the  argument  that  it  was  quite 
impossible  Evan  could  have  been  so  mad,  and  others  in- 
stanced his  youth,  his  wrong-headed  perversity,  his  ungen- 
erous disregard  for  his  devoted  sister,   and  his  known 


THE  COUNTESS  DESCRIBES  THE  FIELD  145 

weakness :  she  replying,  that  undoubtedly  they  were  right 
so  far:  but  that  he  could  not  have  said  he  himself  was 
that  horrible  thing,  because  he  was  nothing  of  the  sort: 
which  faith  in  Evan's  stedfast  adherence  to  facts,  ulti- 
mately silenced  the  phantom  opposition,  and  gained  the 
day. 

With  admiration  let  us  behold  the  Countess  de  Saldar 
alighting  on  the  gravel  sweep  of  Beckley  Court,  the  foot- 
man and  butler  of  the  enemy  bowing  obsequious  welcome 
to  the  most  potent  visitor  Beckley  Court  has  ever  yet 
embraced. 

The  despatches  of  a  general  being  usually  acknowledged 
to  be  the  safest  sources  from  which  the  historian  of  a  cam- 
paign can  draw,  I  proceed  to  set  forth  a  letter  of  the  Count- 
ess de  Saldar,  forwarded  to  her  sister,  Harriet  Cogglesby, 
three  mornings  after  her  arrival  at  Beckley  Court;  and 
which,  if  it  should  prove  false  in  a  few  particulars,  does 
nevertheless  let  us  into  the  state  of  the  Countess's  mind,  and 
gives  the  result  of  that  general's  first  inspection  of  the  field  of 
action.  The  Countess's  epistolary  English  does  small  credit 
to  her  Fallowfield  education ;  but  it  is  feminine,  and  flows 
more  than  her  ordinary  speech.  Besides,  leaders  of  men 
have  always  notoriously  been  above  the  honours  of  grammar. 

"My  deabest  Harriet, 

"Your  note  awaited  me.  No  sooner  my  name  an- 
nounced, than  servitors  in  yellow  livery,  with  powder  and 
buckles  started  before  me,  and  bowing  one  presented  it  on  a 
salver.  A  venerable  butler  —  most  impressive !  led  the  way. 
In  future,  my  dear,  let  it  be  de  Saldar  de  Sancorvo.  That  is 
our  title  iy  rights,  and  it  may  as  well  be  so  in  England. 
English  Countess  is  certainly  best.  Always  put  the  de.  But 
let  us  be  systematic,  as  my  poor  Silva  says.  He  would  be  in 
the  way  here,  and  had  better  not  come  till  I  see  something 
he  can  do.  Silva  has  great  reliance  upon  me.  The  farther 
he  is  from  Lymport,  my  dear  ! — and  imagine  me,  Harriet, 
driving  through  Fallowfield  to  Beckley  Court !  I  gave  one 
peep  at  Dubbins's,  as  I  passed.  The  school  still  goes  on. 
I  saw  three  little  girls  skipping,  and  the  old  swing-pole. 
Seminary  fob  young  ladies  as  bright  as  ever !     I  should 


146  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

have  liked  to  have  kissed  the  children  and  given  them  bon- 
bons and  a  holiday. 

"  How  sparing  you  English  are  of  your  crests  and  arms ! 
I  fully  expected  to  see  the  Jocelyns'  over  my  bed ;  but  no  — 
four  posts  totally  without  ornament !  Sleep,  indeed,  must 
be  the  result  of  dire  fatigue  in  such  a  bed.  The  Jocelyn 
crest  is  a  hawk  in  jesses.  The  Elburne  arms  are.  Or,  three 
falcons  on  a  field,  vert.  How  heraldry  reminds  me  of  poor 
Papa!  the  evenings  we  used  to  spend  with  him,  when  he 
stayed  at  home,  studying  it  so  diligently  under  his  directions ! 
We  never  shall  again !  Sir  Franks  Jocelyn  is  the  third  son 
of  Lord  Elburne,  made  a  Baronet  for  his  patriotic  support 
of  the  Ministry  in  a  time  of  great  trouble.  The  people  are 
sometimes  grateful,  my  dear.  Lord  Elburne  is  the  fourteenth 
of  his  line  —  originally  simple  country  squires.  They  talk 
of  the  Roses,  but  we  need  not  go  so  very  far  back  as  that. 
I  do  not  quite  understand  why  a  Lord's  son  should  con- 
descend to  a  Baronetcy.  Precedence  of  some  sort  for  his 
lady,  I  suppose.  I  have  yet  to  learn  whether  she  ranks  by 
his  birth,  or  his  present  title.  If  so,  a  young  Baronetcy 
cannot  possibly  be  a  gain.  One  thing  is  certain.  She  cares 
very  little  about  it.  She  is  most  eccentric.  But  remember 
what  I  have  told  you.  It  will  be  serviceable  when  you  are 
speaking  of  the  family. 

"  The  dinner-hour,  six.  It  would  no  doubt  be  full  seven, 
in  Town.  I  am  convinced  you  are  half-an-hour  too  early. 
I  had  the  post  of  honour  to  the  right  of  Sir  Franks.  Evan 
to  the  right  of  Lady  Jocelyn.  Most  fortunately  he  was  in 
the  best  of  spirits  —  quite  brilliant.  I  saw  the  eyes  of  that 
sweet  Rose  glisten.  On  the  other  side  of  me  sat  my  pet 
diplomatist,  and  I  gave  him  one  or  two  political  secrets 
which  astonished  him.  Of  course,  my  dear,  I  was  wheedled 
out  of  them.  His  contempt  for  our  weak  intellects  is  in- 
effable. But  a  woman  must  now  and  then  ingratiate  herself 
at  the  expense  of  her  sex.  This  is  perfectly  legitimate. 
Tory  policy  at  the  table.  The  Opposition,  as  Andrew  says, 
not  represented.  So  to  show  that  we  were  human  beings, 
we  differed  among  ourselves,  and  it  soon  became  clear  to  me 
that  Lady  Jocelyn  is  the  rankest  of  Radicals.  My  secret 
suspicion  is,  that  she  is  a  person  of  no  birth  whatever, 
wherever  her  money  came  from.     A  fine  woman — yes ;  still 


THE  COUNTESS   DESCRIBES   THE   FIELD  147 

to  be  admired,  I  suppose,  by  some  kind  of  men ;  but  totally 
wanting  in  the  essentially  feminine  attractions. 

"There  was  no  party,  so  to  say.  I  will  describe  the 
people  present,  beginning  with  the  insignificants. 

"First,  Mr.  Parsley,  the  curate  of  Beckley.  He  eats 
everything  at  table,  and  agrees  with  everything.  A  most 
excellent  orthodox  young  clergyman.  Except  that  he  was 
nearly  choked  by  a  fish-bone,  and  could  not  quite  conceal 
his  distress  —  and  really  Rose  should  have  repressed  her 
desire  to  laugh  till  the  time  for  our  retirement  —  he  made 
no  sensation.  I  saw  her  eyes  watering,  and  she  is  not  clever 
in  turning  it  off.  In  that  nobody  ever  equalled  dear  Papa. 
I  attribute  the  attack  almost  entirely  to  the  tightness  of  the 
white  neck-cloths  the  young  clergymen  of  the  Established 
Church  wear.  But,  my  dear,  I  have  lived  too  long  kway 
from  them  to  wish  for  an  instant  the  slightest  change  in 
anything  they  think,  say,  or  do.  The  mere  sight  of  this 
young  man  was  most  refreshing  to  my  spirit.  He  may  be 
the  shepherd  of  a  flock,  this  poor  Mr.  Parsley,  but  he  is 
a  sheep  to  one  young  person. 

"Mr.  Drummond  Eorth.  A  great  favourite  of  Lady 
Jocelyn's ;  an  old  friend.  He  went  with  them  to  the  East. 
Nothing  improper.  She  is  too  cold  for  that.  He  is  fair, 
with  regular  features,  very  self-possessed,  and  ready  —  your 
English  notions  of  gentlemanly.  But  none  of  your  men 
treat  a  woman  as  a  woman.  We  are  either  angels,  or  good 
fellows,  or  heaven  knows  what  that  is  bad.  No  exquisite 
delicacy,  no  insinuating  softness,  mixed  with  respect,  none 
of  that  hovering  over  the  border,  as  Papa  used  to  say,  none  of 
that  happy  indefiniteness  of  manner  which  seems  to  declare 
'  I  would  love  you  if  I  might,'  or  *  I  do,  but  I  dare  not  tell,' 
even  when  engaged  in  the  most  trivial  attentions  —  handing 
a  footstool,  remarking  on  the  soup,  &c.  You  none  of  you 
know  how  to  meet  a  woman's  smile,  or  to  engage  her  eyes 
without  boldness  —  to  slide  off  them,  as  it  were,  gracefully. 
Evan  alone  can  look  between  the  eyelids  of  a  woman.  I 
have  had  to  correct  him,  for  to  me  he  quite  exposes  the 
state  of  his  heart  towards  dearest  Pose.  She  listens  to 
Mr.  Forth  with  evident  esteem.  In  Portugal  we  do  not 
understand  young  ladies  having  male  friends. 

"Hamilton  Jocelyn — all  politics.     The  stiff  Englishman. 


148  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Not  a  shade  of  manners.  He  invited  me  to  drink  wine. 
Before  I  had  finished  my  bow  his  glass  was  empty  —  the 
man  was  telling  an  anecdote  of  Lord  Livelyston !  You  may 
be  sure,  my  dear,  I  did  not  say  I  had  seen  his  lordship. 

"  Seymour  Jocelyn,  Colonel  of  Hussars.  He  did  nothing 
but  sigh  for  the  cold  weather,  and  hunting.  All  I  envied 
him  was  his  moustache  for  Evan.  Will  you  believe  that 
the  ridiculous  boy  has  shaved ! 

"  Then  there  is  Melville,  my  dear  diplomatist ;  and  here 
is  another  instance  of  our  Harrington  luck.  He  has  the 
gout  in  his  right  hand;  he  can  only  just  hold  knife  and 
fork,  and  is  interdicted  Port-wine  and  penmanship.  The 
dinner  was  not  concluded  before  I  had  arranged  that  Evan 
should  resume  (gratuitously,  you  know)  his  post  of  secretary 
to  him.  So  here  is  Evan  fixed  at  Beckley  Court  as  long  as 
Melville  stays.  Talking  of  him,  I  am  horrified  suddenly. 
They  call  him  the  great  Mel ! 

"  Sir  Franks  is  most  estimable,  I  am  sure,  as  a  man,  and 
redolent  of  excellent  qualities — a  beautiful  disposition,  very 
handsome.  He  has  just  as  much  and  no  more  of  the  English 
polish  one  ordinarily  meets.  When  he  has  given  me  soup 
or  fish,  bowed  to  me  over  wine,  and  asked  a  conventional 
question,  he  has  done  with  me.  I  should  imagine  his 
opinions  to  be  extremely  good,  for  they  are  not  a  multitude. 

"  Then  his  lady  —  but  I  have  not  grappled  with  her  yet. 
Now  for  the  women,  for  I  quite  class  her  with  the  opposite  sex. 

"  You  must  know  that  before  I  retired  for  the  night,  I 
induced  Conning  to  think  she  had  a  bad  head-ache,  and 
Rose  lent  me  her  lady's  maid  —  they  call  the  creature  Polly. 
A  terrible  talker.  She  would  tell  all  about  the  family. 
Rose  has  been  speaking  of  Evan.  It  would  have  looked 
better  had  she  been  quiet  —  but  then  she  is  so  English ! " 

Here  the  Countess  breaks  off  to  say,  that  from  where  she 
is  writing,  she  can  see  Rose  and  Evan  walking  out  to  the 
cypress  avenue,  and  that  no  eyes  are  on  them ;  great  praise 
being  given  to  the  absence  of  suspicion  in  the  Jocelyn  nature. 

The  communication  is  resumed  the  night  of  the  same  day. 

"  Two  days  at  Beckley  Court  are  over,  and  that  strange 
sensation  I  had  of  being  an  intruder  escaped  from  Dub- 


THE   COUNTESS   DESCRIBES   THE  FIELD  149 

bins's,  and  expecting  every  instant  the  old  schoolmistress  to 
call  for  me,  and  expose  me,  and  take  me  to  the  dark  room, 
is  quite  vanished,  and  I  feel  quite  at  home,  quite  happy. 
Evan  is  behaving  well.  Quite  the  young  nobleman.  With 
the  women  I  had  no  fear  of  him ;  he  is  really  admirable 
with  the  men  —  easy,  and  talks  of  sport  and  politics,  and 
makes  the  proper  use  of  Portugal.  He  has  quite  won  the 
heart  of  his  sister.     Heaven  smiles  on  us,  dearest  Harriet ! 

"  We  must  be  favoured,  my  dear,  for  Evan  is  very  trouble- 
some —  distressingly  inconsiderate !  I  left  him  for  a  day  — 
remaining  to  comfort  poor  Mama — and  on  the  road  he 
picked  up  an  object  he  had  known  at  school,  and  this  crea- 
ture, in  shameful  garments,  is  seen  in  the  field  where  Rose 
and  Evan  are  riding  —  in  a  dreadful  hat  —  Eose  might  well 
laugh  at  it !  —  he  is  seen  running  away  from  an  old  apple 
woman,  whose  fruit  he  had  consumed  without  means  to 
liquidate ;  but,  of  course,  he  rushes  bolt  up  to  Evan  before 
all  his  grand  company,  and  claims  acquaintance,  and  Evan 
was  base  enough  to  acknowledge  him !  He  disengaged  him- 
self so  far  well  by  tossing  his  purse  to  the  wretch,  but  if  he 
knows  not  how  to  cut,  I  assure  him  it  will  be  his  ruin. 
Resolutely  he  must  cast  the  dust  off  his  shoes,  or  he  will 
be  dragged  down  to  their  level.  By  the  way,  as  to  hands 
and  feet,  comparing  him  with  the  Jocelyn  men,  he  has  every 
mark  of  better  blood.  Not  a  question  about  it.  As  Papa 
would  say  —  we  have  Nature's  proof. 

'^Looking  out  on  a  beautiful  lawn,  and  the  moon,  and 
all  sorts  of  trees,  I  must  now  tell  you  about  the  ladies 
here. 

"Conning  undid  me  to-night.  While  Conning  remains 
unattached,  Conning  is  likely  to  be  serviceable.  If  Evan 
would  only  give  her  a  cnimb,  she  would  be  his  most  faithful 
dog.  I  fear  he  cannot  be  induced,  and  Conning  will  be 
snapped  up  by  somebody  else.  You  know  how  susceptible 
she  is  behind  her  primness  —  she  will  be  of  no  use  on  earth, 
and  I  shall  find  excuse  to  send  her  back  immediately.  After 
all,  her  appearance  here  was  all  that  was  wanted: 

"  Mrs.  Melville  and  her  dreadful  juvenile  are  here,  as  you 
may  imagine  —  the  complete  Englishwoman.  I  smile  on  her, 
but  I  could  laugh.  To  see  the  crow's-feet  under  her  eyes  on 
her  white  skin,  and  those  ringlets,  is  really  too  ridiculous. 


150  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Then  there  is  a  Miss  Carrington,  Lady  Jocelyn's  cousin, 
aged  thirty -two  —  if  she  has  not  tampered  with  the  register 
of  her  birth.  I  should  think  her  equal  to  it.  Between  dark 
and  fair.  Always  in  love  with  some  man,  Conning  tells  me 
she  hears.  Rose's  maid,  Polly,  hinted  the  same.  She  has 
a  little  money. 

"  But  my  sympathies  have  been  excited  by  a  little  cripple 

—  a  niece  of  Lady  Jocelyn's  and  the  favourite  grand- 
daughter of  the  rich  old  Mrs.  Bonner  —  also  here  —  Juliana 
Bonner.  Her  age  must  be  twenty.  You  would  take  her  for 
ten.  In  spite  of  her  immense  expectations,  the  Jocelyns 
hate  her.  They  can  hardly  be  civil  to  her.  It  is  the  poor 
child's  temper.     She  has  already  begun  to  watch  dear  Evan 

—  certainly  the  handsomest  of  the  men  here  as  yet,  though 
I  grant  you,  they  are  well-grown  men,  these  Jocelyns,  for 
an  untravelled  Englishwoman.  I  fear,  dear  Harriet,  we 
have  been  dreadfully  deceived  about  Rose.  The  poor  child 
has  not,  in  her  own  right,  much  more  than  a  tenth  part  of 
what  we  supposed,  I  fear.  It  was  that  Mrs.  Melville.  I 
have  had  occasion  to  notice  her  quiet  boasts  here.  She  said 
this  morning,  *  when  Mel  is  in  the  Ministry '  —  he  is  not  yet 
in  Parliament!  I  feel  quite  angry  with  the  woman,  and 
she  is  not  so  cordial  as  she  might  be.  I  have  her  profile 
very  frequently  while  I  am  conversing  with  her. 

"  With  Grandmama  Bonner  I  am  excellent  good  friends, 

—  venerable  silver  hair,  high  caps,  &c.  More  of  this  most 
interesting  Juliana  Bonner  by-and-by.  It  is  clear  to  me  that 
Rose's  fortune  is  calculated  upon  the  dear  invalid's  death ! 
Is  not  that  harrowing  ?     It  shocks  me  to  think  of  it. 

"  Then  there  is  Mrs.  Shorne.  She  is  a  Jocelyn  —  and  such  a 
history  !  She  married  a  wealthy  manufacturer  —  bartered  her 
blood  for  his  money,  and  he  failed,  and  here  she  resides,  a 
bankrupt  widow,  petitioning  any  man  that  may  be  willing 
for  his  love  and  a  decent  home.     And  —  I  say  in  charity. 

"  Mrs.  Shorne  comes  here  to-morrow.  She  is  at  present 
with  —  guess,  my  dear !  —  with  Lady  Roseley.  Do  not  be 
alarmed.  •  I  have  met  Lady  Roseley.  She  heard  Evan's 
name,  and  by  that  and  the  likeness  I  saw  she  knew  at  once, 
and  I  saw  a  truce  in  her  eyes.  She  gave  me  a  tacit  assurance 
of  it  —  she  was  engaged  to  dine  here  yesterday,  and  put  it  off 

—  probably  to  grant  us  time  for  composure.     If  she  comes  I 


THE   COUNTESS  DESCRIBES   THE  FIELD  151 

do  not  fear  lier.  Besides,  has  she  not  reasons  ?  Providence 
may  have  designed  her  for  a  staunch  ally  —  I  will  not  say, 
confederate. 

"  Would  that  Providence  had  fixed  this  beautiful  mansion 

fiive  hundred  miles  from  L ,  though  it  were  in  a  desolate 

region !  And  that  reminds  me  of  the  Madre.  She  is  in 
health.  She  always  will  be  overbearingly  robust  till  the 
day  we  are  bereft  of  her.  There  was  some  secret  in  the 
house  when  I  was  there,  which  I  did  not  trouble  to  pene- 
trate.    That  little  Jane  F was  there  —  not  improved. 

"Pray,  be  firm  about  Torquay.  Estates  mortgaged,  but 
hopes  of  saving  a  remnant  of  the  property.  Tliird  son ! 
Don't  commit  yourself  there.  We  dare  not  baronetize  him. 
You  need  not  speak  it  —  imply.  More  can  be  done  that 
way. 

"And  remember,  dear  Harriet,  that  you  must  manage 
Andrew  so  that  we  may  positively  promise  his  vote  to  the 
Ministry  on  all  questions  when  Parliament  next  assembles. 
I  understood  from  Lord  Livelyston,  that  Andrew's  vote 
would  be  thought  much  of.  A  most  amusing  nobleman  !  He 
pledged  himself  to  nothing !  But  we  are  above  such  a  thing 
as  a  commercial  transaction.  He  must  countenance  Silva. 
Women,  my  dear,  have  sent  out  armies  —  why  not  fleets  f 
Do  not  spare  me  your  utmost  aid  in  my  extremity,  my  dear- 
est sister. 

"  As  for  Strike,  I  refuse  to  speak  of  him.  He  is  insuffera- 
ble and  next  to  useless.  How  can  one  talk  with  any  confi- 
dence of  relationship  with  a  Major  of  Marines  ?  When  I 
reflect  on  what  he  is,  and  his  conduct  to  Caroline,  I  have 
inscrutable  longings  to  slap  his  face.  Tell  dear  Carry  her 
husband's  friend  —  the  chairman  or  something  of  that  won- 
derful company  of  Strike's  —  you  know  —  the  Duke  of  Bel- 
field  is  coming  here.  He  is  a  blood-relation  of  the  Elburnes, 
therefore  of  the  Jocelyns.  It  will  not  matter  at  all.  Brew- 
eries, I  find,  are  quite  in  esteem  in  your  England.  It  was 
highly  commendable  in  his  Grace  to  visit  you.  Did  he  come 
to  see  the  Major  of  Marines  ?  Caroline  is  certainly  the  love- 
liest woman  I  ever  beheld,  and  I  forgive  her  now  the  pangs 
of  jealousy  she  used  to  make  me  feel. 

"  Andrew,  I  hope,  has  received  the  most  kind  invitations 
of  the  Jocelyns.     He  must  come.     Melville  must  talk  with 


152  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

him  about  the  votes  of  his  abominable  brother  in  Fallowfield. 
We  must  elect  Melville  and  have  the  family  indebted  to  us. 
But  pray  be  careful  that  Andrew  speaks  not  a  word  to  his 
odious  brother  about  our  location  here.  It  would  set  him 
dead  against  these  hospitable  Jocelyns.  It  will  perhaps  be 
as  well,  dear  Harriet,  if  you  do  not  accompany  Andrew.  You 
would  not  be  able  to  account  for  him  quite  thoroughly.  Do 
as  you  like  —  I  do  but  advise,  and  you  know  I  may  be  trusted 
— for  our  sakes,  dear  one !  I  am  working  for  Carry  to  come 
with  Andrew.  Beautiful  women  always  welcome.  A  prod- 
igy !  —  if  they  wish  to  astonish  the  Duke.  Adieu !  Heaven 
bless  your  babes ! " 

The  night  passes,  and  the  Countess  pursues : 

"  Awakened  by  your  fresh  note  from  a  dream  of  Evan  on 
horseback,  and  a  multitude  hailing  him  Count  Jocelyn  for 
Fallowfield!  A  morning  dream.  They  might  desire  that 
he  should  change  his  name;  but  'Count'  is  preposterous, 
though  it  may  conceal  something. 

"You  say  Andrew  will  come,  and  talk  of  his  bringing 
Caroline.  Anything  to  give  our  poor  darling  a  respite  from 
her  brute.  You  deserve  great  credit  for  your  managing  of 
that  dear  little  good-natured  piece  of  obstinate  man.  I  will 
at  once  see  to  prepare  dear  Caroline's  welcome,  and  trust  her 
stay  may  be  prolonged  in  the  interest  of  common  humanity. 
They  have  her  story  here  already. 

"  Conning  has  come  in,  and  says  that  young  Mr.  Harry 
Jocelyn  will  be  here  this  morning  from  Fallowfield,  where  he 
has  been  cricketing.  The  family  have  not  spoken  of  him  in 
my  hearing.  He  is  not,  I  think,  in  good  odour  at  home  —  a 
scapegrace.  Rose's  maid,  Polly,  quite  flew  out  when  I  hap- 
pened to  mention  him,  and  broke  one  of  my  laces.  These 
English  maids  are  domesticated  savage  animals. 

"  My  chocolate  is  sent  up,  exquisitely  concocted,  in  plate 
of  the  purest  quality  —  lovely  little  silver  cups!  I  have 
already  quite  set  the  fashion  for  the  ladies  to  have  chocolate 
in  bed.  The  men,  I  hear,  complain  that  there  is  no  lady  at 
the  breakfast-table.  They  have  Miss  Carrington  to  superin- 
tend. I  read,  in  the  subdued  satisfaction  of  her  eyes  (com- 
pletely without  colour),  how  much  she  thanks  me  and  the 


THE  COUNTESS   DESCRIBES   THE   FIELD  ^5B 

institution  of  chocolate  in  bed.  Poor  Miss  Carrington  is  no 
match  for  her  opportunities.  One  may  give  them  to  her 
without  dread. 

"  It  is  ten  on  the  Sabbath  morn.  The  sweet  church-bells 
are  ringing.  It  seems  like  a  dream.  There  is  nothing  but 
the  religion  attaches  me  to  England ;  but  that  —  is  not  that 
everything?  How  I  used  to  sigh  on  Sundays  to  hear  them 
in  Portugal ! 

"  I  have  an  idea  of  instituting  toilette-receptions.  They 
will  not  please  Miss  Carrington  so  well. 

"  Now  to  the  peaceful  village  church,  and  divine  worship. 
Adieu,  my  dear.  I  kiss  my  fingers  to  Silva.  Make  no  effort 
to  amuse  him.  He  is  always  occupied.  Bread !  — he  asks  no 
more.  Adieu !  Carry  will  be  invited  with  your  little  man. 
...  You  unhappily  unable.  .  .  .  She,  the  sister  I  pine  to 
see,  to  show  her  worthy  of  my  praises.  Expectation  and 
excitement !    Adieu ! " 

Filled  with  pleasing  emotions  at  the  thought  of  the  ser- 
vice in  the  quiet  village  church,  and  worshipping  in  the 
principal  pew,  under  the  blazonry  of  the  Jocelyn  arms,  the 
Countess  sealed  her  letter  and  addressed  it,  and  then  exam- 
ined the  name  of  Cogglesby ;  which  plebeian  name,  it  struck 
her,  would  not  sound  well  to  the  menials  of  Beckley  Court. 
While  she  was  deliberating  what  to  do  to  conceal  it,  she 
heard,  through  her  open  window,  the  voices  of  some  young 
men  laughing.  She  beheld  her  brother  pass  these  yoimg 
men,  and  bow  to  them.  She  beheld  them  stare  at  him  with- 
out at  all  returning  his  salute,  and  then  one  of  them  —  the 
same  who  had  filled  her  ears  with  venom  at  Fallowfield  — 
turned  to  the  others  and  laughed  outrageously,  crying : 

"  By  Jove !  this  comes  it  strong.  Fancy  the  snipocracy 
here  —  eh  ?  " 

What  the  others  said  the  Countess  did  not  wait  to  hear. 
She  put  on  her  bonnet  hastily,  tried  the  effect  of  a  peculiar 
smile  in  the  mirror,  and  lightly  ran  down-stairs. 


164  EVAN  HABRINGTON 

CHAPTER  XV 

A  CAPTURE 

The  three  youths  were  standing  in  the  portico  when  the 
Countess  appeared  among  them.  She  singled  out  him  who 
was  specially  obnoxious  to  her,  and  sweetly  inquired  the 
direction  to  the  village  post.  With  the  renowned  gallantry 
of  his  nation,  he  offered  to  accompany  her,  but  presently, 
with  a  different  exhibition  of  the  same,  proposed  that  they 
should  spare  themselves  the  trouble  by  dropping  the  letter 
she  held  prominently,  in  the  bag. 

"  Thanks,"  murmured  the  Countess,  "  I  will  go."  Upon 
which  his  eager  air  subsided,  and  he  fell  into  an  awkward 
silent  march  at  her  side,  looking  so  like  the  victim  he  was 
to  be,  that  the  Countess  could  have  emulated  his  power  of 
laughter. 

"  And  you  are  Mr.  Harry  Jocelyn,  the  very  famous 
cricketer  ?  " 

He  answered,  glancing  back  at  his  friends,  that  he  was, 
but  he  did  not  know  about  the  "  famous." 

"  Oh !  but  I  saw  you  —  I  saw  you  hit  the  ball  most  beauti- 
fully, and  dearly  wished  my  brother  had  an  equal  ability. 
Brought  up  in  the  Court  of  Portugal,  he  is  barely  English. 
There  they  have  no  manly  sports.     You  saw  him  pass  you?  " 

"  Him !     Who  ?  "  asked  Harry. 

"My  brother,  on  the  lawn,  this  moment.  Your  sweet 
sister's  friend.     Your  uncle  Melville's  secretary." 

"What's  his  name  ?"  said  Harry,  in  blunt  perplexity. 

The  Countess  repeated  his  name,  which  in  her  pronuncia- 
tion was  "  Hawington,"  adding,  "  That  was  my  brother.  I 
am  his  sister.    Have  you  heard  of  the  Countess  de  Saldar  ?  " 

"Countess!"  muttered  Harry.   "Dashit!  here's  a  mistake." 

She  continued,  with  elegant  fan-like  motion  of  her  gloved 
fingers :  "  They  say  there  is  a  likeness  between  us.  The 
dear  Queen  of  Portugal  often  remarked  it,  and  in  her  it 
was  a  compliment  to  me,  for  she  thought  my  brother  a 
model !  You  I  should  have  known  from  your  extreme 
resemblance  to  your  lovely  young  sister." 


A  CAPTURE  155 

Coarse  food,  but  then  Hany  was  a  youthful  Englishman ; 
and  the  Countess  dieted  the  vanity  according  to  the  nation- 
ality. With  good  wine  to  wash  it  down,  one  can  swallow 
anything.  The  Countess  lent  him  her  eyes  for  that  pur- 
pose; eyes  that  had  a  liquid  glow  under  the  dove-like 
drooping  lids.  It  was  a  principle  of  hers,  pampering  our 
poor  sex  with  swinish  solids  or  the  lightest  ambrosia,  never 
to  let  the  accompanying  cordial  be  other  than  of  the  finest 
quality.  She  knew  that  clowns,  even  more  than  aristo- 
crats, are  flattered  by  the  inebriation  of  delicate  celestial 
liquors. 

"  Now,"  she  said,  after  Harry  had  gulped  as  much  of  the 
dose  as  she  chose  to  administer  direct  from  the  founts, 
"  you  must  accord  me  the  favour  to  tell  me  all  about  your- 
self, for  I  have  heard  much  of  you,  Mr.  Harry  Jocelyn,  and 
you  have  excited  my  woman's  interest.  Of  me  you  know 
nothing." 

"  Haven't  I  ?  "  cried  Harry,  speaking  to  the  pitch  of  his 
new  warmth.  "  My  uncle  Melville  goes  on  about  you  tre- 
mendously —  makes  his  wife  as  jealous  as  fire.  How  could 
I  tell  that  was  your  brother  ?  " 

"  Your  uncle  has  deigned  to  allude  to  me  ? "  said  the 
Countess,  meditatively.  "But  not  of  him  —  of  you,  Mr. 
Harry !     What  does  he  say  ?  " 

"  Says  you're  so  clever  you  ought  to  be  a  man." 

"  Ah !  generous  ! "  exclaimed  the  Countess.  "  The  idea, 
I  think,  is  novel  to  him.     Is  it  not  ?  " 

"  Well,  I  believe,  from  what  I  hear,  he  didn't  back  you 
for  much  over  in  Lisbon,"  said  veracious  Harry. 

"  I  fear  he  is  deceived  in  me  now.  I  fear  I  am  but  a 
woman  —  I  am  not  to  be  '  backed.'  But  you  are  not  talking 
of  yourself." 

"  Oh !  never  mind  me,"  was  Harry's  modest  answer. 

"  But  I  do.  Try  to  imagine  me  as  clever  as  a  man,  and 
talk  to  me  of  your  doings.  Indeed  I  will  endeavour  to 
comprehend  you." 

Thus  humble,  the  Countess  bade  him  give  her  his  arm. 
He  stuck  it  out  with  abrupt  eagerness. 

"Not  against  my  cheek."  She  laughed  forgivingly. 
"And  you  need  not  start  back  half-a-mile,"  she  pursued 
with  plain  humour :  "  and  please  do  not  look  irresolute  and 


156  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

awkward —  It  is  not  necessary,"  she  added.  "There!" 
and  she  settled  her  fingers  on  him,  "  I  am  glad  I  can  find 
one  or  two  things  to  instruct  you  in.  Begin.  You  are  a 
great  cricketer.     What  else  ?  " 

Ay !  what  else  ?  Harry  might  well  say  he  had  no  wish 
to  talk  of  himself.  He  did  not  know  even  how  to  give  his 
arm  to  a  lady !  The  first  flattery  and  the  subsequent  chid- 
ing clashed  in  his  elated  soul,  and  caused  him  to  deem  him- 
self one  of  the  blest  suddenly  overhauled  by  an  inspecting 
angel  and  found  wanting:  or,  in  his  own  more  accurate 
style  of  reflection,  "  What  a  rattling  fine  woman  this  is, 
and  what  a  deuce  of  a  fool  she  must  think  me  ! " 

The  Countess  leaned  on  his  arm  with  dainty  languor. 

"  You  walk  well,"  she  said. 

Harry's  backbone  straightened  immediately. 

"  No,  no ;  I  do  not  want  you  to  be  a  drill-sergeant.  Can 
you  not  be  told  you  are  perfect  without  seeking  to  improve, 
vain  boy  ?  You  can  cricket,  and  you  can  walk,  and  will 
very  soon  learn  how  to  give  your  arm  to  a  lady.  I  have 
hopes  of  you.  Of  your  friends,  from  whom  I  have  ruth- 
lessly dragged  you,  I  have  not  much.  Am  I  personally 
offensive  to  them,  Mr.  Harry  ?  I  saw  them  let  my  brother 
pass  without  returning  his  bow,  and  they  in  no  way  ac- 
knowledged my  presence  as  I  passed.  Are  they  gentle- 
men?" 

"Yes,"  said  Harry,  stupefied  by  the  question.  "One's 
Ferdinand  Laxley,  Lord  Laxley's  son,  heir  to  the  title ;  the 
other's  William  Harvey,  son  of  the  Chief  Justice  —  both 
friends  of  mine." 

"But  not  of  your  manners,"  interposed  the  Countess. 
"I  have  not  so  much  compunction  as  I  ought  to  have  in 
divorcing  you  from  your  associates  for  a  few  minutes.  I 
think  I  shall  make  a  scholar  of  you  in  one  or  two  essentials. 
You  do  want  polish.  Have  I  not  a  right  to  take  you  in 
hand  ?    I  have  defended  you  already." 

"  Me  ?  "  cried  Harry. 

"None  other  than  Mr.  Harry  Jocelyn.  Will  he  vouch- 
safe to  me  his  pardon  ?  It  has  been  whispered  in  my  ears 
that  his  ambition  is  to  be  the  Don  Juan  of  a  country  district, 
and  I  have  said  for  him,  that  however  grovelling  his  undi- 
rected tastes,  he  is  too  truly  noble  to  plume  himself  upon 


A  CAPTUBE  157 

the  reputation  they  have  procured  him.  Why  did  I  defend 
you?  Women,  you  know,  do  not  shrink  from  Don  Juans  — 
even  provincial  Don  Juans  —  as  they  should,  perhaps,  for 
their  own  sakes !  You  are  all  of  you  dangerous,  if  a  woman 
is  not  strictly  on  her  guard.  But  you  will  respect  your 
champion,  will  you  not  ?  " 

Harry  was  about  to  reply  with  wonderful  briskness.  He 
stopped,  and  murmured  boorishly  that  he  was  sure  he  was 
very  much  obliged. 

Command  of  countenance  the  Countess  possessed  in  com- 
mon with  her  sex.  Those  faces  on  which  we  make  them 
depend  entirely,  women  can  entirely  control.  Keenly  sen- 
sible to  humour  as  the  Countess  was,  her  face  sidled  up  to 
his  immovably  sweet.  Harry  looked,  and  looked  away,  and 
looked  again.  The  poor  fellow  was  so  profoundly  aware 
of  his  foolishness  that  he  even  doubted  whether  he  was 
admired. 

The  Countess  trifled  with  his  English  nature;  quietly 
watched  him  bob  between  tugging  humility  and  airy  con- 
ceit, and  went  on: 

"  Yes !  I  will  trust  you,  and  that  is  saying  very  much, 
for  what  protection  is  a  brother  ?  I  am  alone  here  — 
defenceless ! " 

Men,  of  course,  grow  virtuously  zealous  in  an  instant  on 
behalf  of  the  lovely  dame  who  tells  them  bewitchingly,  she 
is  alone  and  defenceless,  with  pitiful  dimples  round  the 
dewy  mouth  that  entreats  their  guardianship  and  mercy ! 

The  provincial  Don  Juan  found  words  —  a  sign  of  clearer 
sensations  within.     He  said: 

"Upon  my  honour,  I'd  look  after  you  better  than  fifty 
brothers ! " 

The  Countess  eyed  him  softly,  and  then  allowed  herself 
the  luxury  of  a  laugh. 

"  No,  no !  it  is  not  the  sheep,  it  is  the  wolf  I  fear." 

And  she  went  through  a  bit  of  the  concluding  portion  of 
the  drama  of  Little  Red  Riding  Hood  very  prettily,  and 
tickled  him  so  that  he  became  somewhat  less  afraid  of  her. 

"  Are  you  truly  so  bad  as  report  would  have  you  to  be, 
Mr,  Harry  ?  "  she  asked,  not  at  all  in  the  voice  of  a  censor. 

"  Pray  don't  think  me  —  a  —  anything  you  wouldn't  have 
me,"  the  youth  stumbled  into  an  apt  response. 


158  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"  We  shall  see,"  said  the  Countess,  and  varied  her  admi« 
ration  for  the  noble  creature  beside  her  with  gentle  ejacula- 
tions on  the  beauty  of  the  deer  that  ranged  the  park  of 
Beckley  Court,  the  grand  old  oaks  and  beeches,  the  clumps 
of  flowering  laurel,  and  the  rich  air  swarming  Summer. 

She  swept  out  her  arm,  "And  this  most  magnificent 
estate  will  be  yours  ?  How  happy  will  she  be  who  is  led 
hither  to  reside  by  you,  Mr.  Harry ! " 

"  Mine  ?  No ;  there's  the  bother,"  he  answered,  with 
unfeigned  chagrin.  "  Beckley  isn't  Elburne  property,  you 
know.     It  belongs  to  old  Mrs.  Bonner,  Rose's  grandmama." 

"  Oh  ! "  interjected  the  Countess,  indifferently. 

"  I  shall  never  get  it — no  chance,"  Harry  pursued.  "  Lost 
my  luck  with  the  old  lady  long  ago."  He  waxed  excited  on 
a  subject  that  drew  him  from  his  shamef acedness.  "  It  goes 
to  Juley  Bonner,  or  to  Rosey ;  it's  a  toss-up  which.  If  I'd 
stuck  up  to  Juley,  I  might  have  had  a  pretty  fair  chance. 
They  wanted  me  to,  that's  why  I  scout  the  premises.  But 
fancy  Juley  Bonner ! " 

"  You  couldn't,  upon  your  honour ! "  rhymed  the  Countess. 
(And  Harry  let  loose  a  delighted  "  Ha !  ha ! "  as  at  a  fine 
stroke  of  wit.)  "  Are  we  enamoured  of  a  beautiful  maiden, 
Senor  Harry  ?  " 

"  Not  a  bit,"  he  assured  her,  eagerly.  "  I  don't  know  any 
girl.     I  don't  care  for  'em.     I  don't,  really."  -; 

The  Countess  impressively  declared  to  him  that  he  must 
be  guided  by  her;  and  that  she  might  the  better  act  his 
monitress,  she  desired  to  hear  the  pedigree  of  the  estate, 
and  the  exact  relations  in  which  it  at  present  stood  toward 
the  Elburne  family. 

Glad  of  any  theme  he  coidd  speak  on,  Harry  informed 
her  that  Beckley  Court  was  bought  by  his  grandfather 
Bonner  from  the  proceeds  of  a  successful  oil  speculation. 

"  So  we  ain't  much  on  that  side,"  he  said. 

"  Oil ! "  was  the  Countess's  weary  exclamation.  "  I 
imagined  Beckley  Court  to  be  your  ancestral  mansion. 
Oil ! " 

Harry  deprecatingly  remarked  that  oil  was  money. 

"  Yes,"  she  replied ;  "  but  you  are  not  one  to  mix  oil  with 
your  Elburne  blood.  Let  me  see  —  oil !  That,  I  conceive, 
is  grocery.     So,  you  are  grocers  on  one  side ! " 


A  CAPTURE  159 

"  Oh,  come !  liang  it !  "  cried  Harry,  turning  red. 

"  Am  I  leaning  on  the  grocer's  side,  or  on  the  lord's  ?  " 

Harry  felt  dreadfully  taken  down.  "One  ranks  with 
one's  father,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,"  observed  the  Countess ;  "  but  you  should  ever  be 
careful  not  to  expose  the  grocer.  When  I  beheld  my  brother 
bow  to  you,  and  that  your  only  return  was  to  stare  at  him  in 
that  singular  way,  I  was  not  aware  of  this,  and  could  not 
account  for  it." 

"  I  declare  I'm  very  sorry,"  said  Harry,  with  a  nettled  air. 
"  Do  just  let  me  tell  you  how  it  happened.  We  were  at  an 
inn,  where  there  was  an  odd  old  fellow  gave  a  supper ;  and 
there  was  your  brother,  and  another  fellow  —  as  thorough 
an  upstart  as  I  ever  met,  and  infernally  impudent.  He  got 
drinking,  and  wanted  to  fight  us.  Now  I  see  it!  Your 
brother,  to  save  his  friend's  bones,  said  he  was  a  tailor !  Of 
course  no  gentleman  could  fight  a  tailor ;  and  it  blew  over 
with  my  saying  we'd  order  our  clothes  of  him." 

"Said  he  was  a !"  exclaimed  the  Countess,  gazing 

blankly. 

"I  don't  wonder  at  your  feeling  annoyed,"  returned 
Harry.  "I  saw  him  with  Rosey  next  day,  and  began  to 
smell  a  rat  then,  but  Laxley  won't  give  up  the  tailor.  He's 
as  proud  as  Lucifer.     He  wanted  to  order  a  suit  of  your 

brotbar  to-day ;   but  I  said not  while  he's  in  the  house, 

however  he  came  here." 

The  Countess  had  partially  recovered.  They  were  now 
in  the  village  street,  and  Harry  pointed  out  the  post-office. 

"  Your  divination  with  regard  to  my  brother's  most  ec- 
centric behaviour  was  doubtless  correct,"  she  said.  "He 
wished  to  succour  his  wretched  companion.  Anywhere  —  it 
matters  not  to  him  what !  —  he  allies  himself  with  miserable 
mortals.  He  is  the  modern  Samaritan.  You  should  thank 
him  for  saving  you  an  encounter  with  some  low  creature." 

Swaying  the  letter  to  and  fro,  she  pursued  archly:  "I  can 
read  your  thoughts.  You  are  dying  to  know  to  whom  this 
dear  letter  is  addressed !  " 

Instantly  Harry,  whose  eyes  had  previously  been  quite 
empty  of  expression,  glanced  at  the  letter  wistfully. 

"Shall  I  tell  you?" 

"Yes,  do." 


160  EVAN  HABRINGTON 

"  It's  to  somebody  I  love." 

"  Are  you  in  love  then  ?  "  was  his  disconcerted  rejoinder. 

"  Am  I  not  married  ?  " 

"  Yes ;  but  every  woman  that's  married  isn't  in  love  with 
her  husband,  you  know." 

"  Oh  !  Don  Juan  of  the  provinces  !  "  she  cried,  holding 
the  seal  of  the  letter  before  him  in  playful  reproof.   "  Fie !  " 

"  Come !  who  is  it  ?  "  Harry  burst  out. 

"  I  am  not,  surely,  obliged  to  confess  my  correspondence 
to  you  ?  Remember ! "  she  laughed  lightly.  "  He  already 
assumes  the  airs  of  a  lord  and  master  !  You  are  rapid,  Mr. 
Harry." 

"  Won't  you  really  tell  me  ?  "  he  pleaded. 

She  put  a  corner  of  the  letter  in  the  box.     "  Must  I  ?  " 

All  was  done  with  the  archest  elegance :  the  bewildering 
condescension  of  a  Goddess  to  a  boor. 

"  I  don't  say  you  must,  you  know :  but  I  should  like  to 
see  it,"  returned  Harry. 

"  There ! "  She  showed  him  a  glimpse  of  "  Mrs.,"  cleverly 
concealing  plebeian  "  Cogglesby,"  and  the  letter  slid  into 
darkness.     "  Are  you  satisfied  ?  " 

"  Yes,"  said  Harry,  wondering  why  he  felt  a  relief  at  the 
sight  of  "  Mrs."  written  on  a  letter  by  a  lady  he  had  only 
known  half-an-hour. 

"  And  now,"  said  she,  "  I  shall  demand  a  boon  of  you,  Mr. 
Harry.     Will  it  be  accorded  ?  " 

She  was  hurriedly  told  that  she  might  count  upon  him  for 
whatever  she  chose  to  ask;  and  after  much  trifling  and 
many  exaggerations  of  the  boon  in  question,  he  heard  that 
she  had  selected  him  as  her  cavalier  for  the  day,  and  that  he 
was  to  consent  to  accompany  her  to  the  village  church. 

"  Is  it  so  great  a  request,  the  desire  that  you  should  sit 
beside  a  solitary  lady  for  so  short  a  space  ?  "  she  asked,  not- 
ing his  rueful  visage. 

Harry  assured  her  he  would  be  very  happy,  but  hinted 
at  the  bother  of  having  to  sit  and  listen  to  that  fool  of  a 
Parsley:  again  assuring  her,  and  with  real  earnestness, 
which  the  lady  now  affected  to  doubt,  that  he  would  be 
extremely  happy. 

"  You  know,  I  haven't  been  there  for  ages,"  he  explained. 

"  I  hear  it ! "  she  sighed,  aware  of  the  credit  his  escort 


SKIRMISH  BETWEEN  ROSE  AND  EVAN  161 

would  bring  her  in  Beckley,  and  especially  with  Harry's 
grandmama  Bonner. 

They  went  together  to  the  village  church.  The  Countess 
took  care  to  be  late,  so  that  all  eyes  beheld  her  stately  march 
up  the  aisle,  with  her  captive  beside  her.  Nor  was  her 
captive  less  happy  than  he  professed  he  would  be.  Charm- 
ing comic  side-play,  at  the  expense  of  Mr.  Parsley,  she 
mingled  with  exceeding  devoutness,  and  a  serious  attention 
to  Mr.  Parsley's  discourse.  In  her  heart  this  lady  really 
thought  her  confessed  daily  sins  forgiven  her  by  the  recov- 
ery of  the  lost  sheep  to  Mr.  Parsley's  fold. 

The  results  of  this  small  passage  of  arms  were,  that 
Evan's  disclosure  at  Pallowfield  was  annulled  in  the  mind 
of  Harry  Jocelyn,  and  the  latter  gentleman  became  the 
happy  slave  of  the  Countess  de  Saldar. 


CHAPTER  XVI 

LEADS   TO   A   SMALL   SKIRMISH   BETWEEN   BOSE   AND  EVAN 

Lady  Jocelyn  belonged  properly  to  that  order  which  the 
Sultans  and  the  Roxalanas  of  earth  combine  to  exclude  from 
their  little  games,  under  the  designation  of  blues,  or  strong- 
minded  women :  a  kind,  if  genuine,  the  least  dangerous  and 
staunchest  of  the  sex,  as  poor  fellows  learn  when  the  flippant 
and  the  frail  fair  have  made  mummies  of  them.  She  had  the 
frankness  of  her  daughter,  the  same  direct  eyes  and  firm 
step :  a  face  without  shadows,  though  no  longer  bright  with 
youth.  It  may  be  charged  to  her  as  one  of  the  errors  of  her 
strong  mind,  that  she  believed  friendship  practicable  be- 
tween men  and  women,  young  or  old.  She  knew  the  world 
pretty  well,  and  was  not  amazed  by  extraordinary  accidents ; 
but  as  she  herself  continued  to  be  an  example  of  her  faith, 
we  must  presume  it  natural  that  her  delusion  should  cling 
to  her.  She  welcomed  Evan  as  her  daughter's  friend,  walked 
half-way  across  the  room  to  meet  him  on  his  introduction  to 
her,  and  with  the  simple  words,  "  I  have  heard  of  you,"  let 
him  see  that  he  stood  upon  his  merits  in  her  house.     The 


162  EVAN  HABRINGTON 

young  man's  spirit  caught  something  of  hers  even  in  their 
first  interview,  and  at  once  mounted  to  that  level.  Uncon- 
sciously he  felt  that  she  took,  and  would  take,  him  for  what 
he  was,  and  he  rose  to  his  worth  in  the  society  she  presided 
over.  A  youth  like  Evan  could  not  perceive,  that  in  loving 
this  lady's  daughter,  and  accepting  the  place  she  offered  him, 
he  was  guilty  of  a  breach  of  confidence  ;  or  reflect,  that  her 
entire  absence  of  suspicion  imposed  upon  him  a  correspond- 
ing honesty  toward  her.  He  fell  into  a  blindness.  Without 
dreaming  for  a  moment  that  she  designed  to  encourage  his 
passion  for  Rose,  he  yet  beheld  himself  in  the  light  she  had 
cast  on  him ;  and,  received  as  her  daughter's  friend,  it 
seemed  to  him  not  so  utterly  monstrous  that  he  might  be 
her  daughter's  lover.  A  haughty,  a  gi-and,  or  a  too  familiar 
manner,  would  have  kept  his  eyes  clearer  on  his  true  condi- 
tion. Lady  Jocelyn  spoke  to  his  secret  nature,  and  eclipsed 
in  his  mind  the  outward  aspects  with  which  it  was  warring. 
To  her  he  was  a  gallant  young  man,  a  fit  companion  for 
Rose,  and  when  she  and  Sir  Franks  said,  and  showed  him, 
that  they  were  glad  to  know  him,  his  heart  swam  in  a  flood 
of  happiness  they  little  suspected. 

This  was  another  of  the  many  forms  of  intoxication  to 
which  circumstances  subjected  the  poor  lover.  In  Fallow- 
field,  among  impertinent  young  men,  Evan's  pride  proclaimed 
him  a  tailor.  At  Beckley  Court,  acted  on  by  one  genuine 
soul,  he  forgot  it,  and  felt  elate  in  his  manhood.  The  shades 
of  Tailordom  dispersed  like  fog  before  the  full  southwest 
breeze.  When  I  say  he  forgot  it,  the  fact  was  present 
enough  to  him,  but  it  became  an  outward  fact:  he  had 
ceased  to  feel  it  within  him.  It  was  not  a  portion  of  his 
being,  hard  as  Mrs.  Mel  had  struck  to  fix  it.  Consequently, 
though  he  was  in  a  far  worse  plight  than  when  he  parted 
with  Rose  on  board  the  Jocasta,  he  felt  much  less  of  an  im- 
postor now.  This  may  have  been  partly  because  he  had 
endured  his  struggle  with  the  Demogorgon  the  Countess 
painted  to  him  in  such  frightful  colours,  and  found  him 
human  after  all;  but  it  was  mainly  owing  to  the  hearty 
welcome  Lady  Jocelyn  had  extended  to  him  as  the  friend 
of  Rose. 

Loving  Rose,  he  nevertheless  allowed  his  love  no  tender 
liberties.     The  eyes  of  a  lover  are  not  his  own;  but  his 


SKIRMISH   BETWEEN   ROSE  AND   EVAN  163 

hands  and  lips  are,  till  such  time  as  they  are  claimed.  The 
sun  must  smile  on  us  with  peculiar  warmth  to  woo  us  forth 
utterly — pluck  our  hearts  out.  Rose  smiled  on  many.  She 
smiled  on  Drummond  Forth,  Ferdinand  Laxley,  William 
Harvey,  and  her  brother  Harry ;  and  she  had  the  same  eyes 
for  all  ages.  Once,  previous  to  the  arrival  of  the  latter  three, 
there  was  a  change  in  her  look,  or  Evan  fancied  it.  They 
were  going  to  ride  out  together,  and  Evan,  coming  to  his 
horse  on  the  gravel  walk,  saw  her  talking  with  Drummond 
Forth.  He  mounted,  awaiting  her,  and  either  from  a  slight 
twinge  of  jealousy,  or  to  mark  her  dainty  tread  with  her 
riding-habit  drawn  above  her  heels,  he  could  not  help  turn- 
ing his  head  occasionally.  She  listened  to  Drummond  with 
attention,  but  presently  broke  from  him,  crying :  "  It's  an 
absurdity.     Speak  to  them  yourself — I  shall  not." 

On  the  ride  that  day,  she  began  prattling  of  this  and  that 
with  the  careless  glee  that  became  her  well,  and  then  sank 
into  a  reverie.  Betweenwhiles  her  eyes  had  raised  tumults 
in  Evan's  breast  by  dropping  on  him  in  a  sort  of  question- 
ing way,  as  if  she  wished  him  to  speak,  or  wished  to  fathom 
something  she  would  rather  have  unspoken.  Ere  they  had 
finished  their  ride,  she  tossed  off  what  burden  may  have  been 
on  her  mind  as  lightly  as  a  stray  lock  from  her  shoulders. 
He  thought  that  the  singular  look  recurred.  It  charmed 
him  too  much  for  him  to  speculate  on  it. 

The  Countess's  opportune  ally,  the  gout,  which  had  re- 
duced the  Hon.  Melville  Jocelyn's  right  hand  to  a  state  of 
uselessness,  served  her  with  her  brother  equally :  for,  hav- 
ing volunteered  his  services  to  the  invalided  diplomatist, 
it  excused  his  stay  at  Beckley  Court  to  himself,  and  was  a 
mask  to  his  intimacy  with  Rose,  besides  earning  him  the 
thanks  of  the  family.  Harry  Jocelyn,  released  from  the 
wing  of  the  Countess,  came  straight  to  him,  and  in  a  rough 
kind  of  way  begged  Evan  to  overlook  his  rudeness. 

"  You  took  us  all  in  at  Fallowfield,  except  Drummond," 
he  said.  "  Drummond  would  have  it  you  were  joking.  I 
see  it  now.  And  you're  a  confoundedly  clever  fellow  into 
the  bargain,  or  you  wouldn't  be  quill-driving  for  Uncle 
Mel.     Don't  be  uppish  about  it  —  will  you?" 

"You  have  nothing  to  fear  on  that  point,"  said  Evan. 
With  which  promise  the  peace  was  signed  between  them. 


164  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Drumraond  and  William  Harvey  were  cordial,  and  just 
laughed  over  the  incident.  La^ey,  however,  held  aloof. 
His  retention  of  ideas  once  formed  befitted  his  rank  and 
station. 

Some  trifling  qualms  attended  Evan's  labours  with  the 
diplomatist ;  but  these  were  merely  occasioned  by  the  itera- 
tion of  a  particular  phrase.  Mr.  Goren,  an  enthusiastic 
tailor,  had  now  and  then  thrown  out  to  Evan  stirring  hints 
of  an  invention  he  claimed :  the  discovery  of  a  Balance  in 
Breeches :  apparently  the  philosopher's  stone  of  the  tailor 
craft,  a  secret  that  should  ensure  harmony  of  outline  to  the 
person  and  an  indubitable  accommodation  to  the  most  diffi- 
cult legs. 

Since  Adam's  expulsion,  it  seemed,  the  tailors  of  this 
wilderness  had  been  in  search  of  it.  But  like  the  doctors 
of  this  wilderness,  their  science  knew  no  specific :  like  the 
Babylonian  workmen  smitten  with  confusion  of  tongues,  they 
had  but  one  word  in  common,  and  that  word  was  "cut." 
Mr.  Goren  contended  that  to  cut  was  not  the  key  of  the 
science :  but  to  find  a  Balance  was.  An  artistic  admirer  of 
the  frame  of  man,  Mr.  Goren  Avas  not  wanting  in  veneration 
for  the  individual  who  had  arisen  to  do  it  justice.  He  spoke 
of  his  Balance  with  supreme  self-appreciation.  Nor  less  so 
the  Honourable  Melville,  who  professed  to  have  discovered 
the  Balance  of  Power,  at  home  and  abroad.  It  was  a  capital 
Balance,  but  inferior  to  Mr.  Goren's.  The  latter  gentleman 
guaranteed  a  Balance  with  motion:  whereas  one  step  not 
only  upset  the  Honourable  Melville's,  but  shattered  the 
limbs  of  Europe.  Let  us  admit  that  it  is  easier  to  fit  a 
man's  legs  than  to  compress  expansive  empires. 

Evan  enjoyed  the  doctoring  of  kingdoms  quite  as  well  as 
the  diplomatist.  It  suited  the  latent  grandeur  of  soul  in- 
herited by  him  from  the  great  Mel.  He  liked  to  prop 
Austria  and  arrest  the  Czar,  and  keep  a  watchful  eye  on 
France ;  but  the  Honourable  Melville's  deep-mouthed  phrase 
conjured  up  to  him  a  pair  of  colossal  legs  imperiously  de- 
manding their  Balance  likewise.  At  first  the  image  scared 
him.  In  time  he  was  enabled  to  smile  it  into  phantom 
vagueness.  The  diplomatist  diplomatically  informed  him, 
it  might  happen  that  the  labours  he  had  undertaken  might 
be  neither  more  nor  less  than  education  for  a  profession  he 


SKIRMISH  BETWEEN  ROSE   AND   EVAN  165 

might  have  to  follow.  Out  of  this,  an  ardent  imagination, 
with  the  Countess  de  Saldar  for  an  interpreter,  might  con- 
strue a  promise  of  some  sort.  Evan  soon  had  high  hopes. 
What  though  his  name  blazed  on  a  shop-front  ?  The  sun 
might  yet  illumine  him  to  honour ! 

Where  a  young  man  is  getting  into  delicate  relations  with 
a  young  woman,  the  more  of  his  sex  the  better  —  they  serve 
as  a  blind ;  and  the  Countess  hailed  fresh  arrivals  warmly. 
There  was  Sir  John  Loring,  Dorothy's  father,  who  had 
married  the  eldest  of  the  daughters  of  Lord  Elburne.  A 
widower,  handsome,  and  a  flirt,  he  capitulated  to  the  Countess 
instantly,  and  was  played  off  against  the  provincial  Don 
Juan,  who  had  reached  that  point  with  her  when  youths  of 
his  description  make  bashful  confidences  of  their  successes, 
and  receive  delicious  chidings  for  their  naughtiness  —  re- 
bukes which  give  immeasurable  rebounds.  Then  came  Mr. 
Gordon  Graine,  with  his  daughter.  Miss  Jenny  Graine,  an 
early  friend  of  Rose's,  and  numerous  others.  For  the  pres- 
ent. Miss  Isabella  Current  need  only  be  chronicled  among 
the  visitors  —  a  sprightly  maid  fifty  years  old,  without  a 
wrinkle  to  show  for  it  —  the  Aunt  Bel  of  fifty  houses  where 
there  were  young  women  and  little  boys.  Aunt  Bel  had 
quick  wit  and  capital  anecdotes,  and  tripped  them  out  aptly 
on  a  sparkling  tongue  with  exquisite  instinct  for  climax  and 
when  to  strike  for  a  laugh.  No  sooner  had  she  entered  the 
hall  than  she  announced  the  proximate  arrival  of  the  Duke 
of  Belfield  at  her  heels,  and  it  was  known  that  his  Grace 
was  as  sure  to  follow  as  her  little  dog,  who  was  far  better 
paid  for  his  devotion. 

The  dinners  at  Beckley  Court  had  hitherto  been  rather 
languid  to  those  who  were  not  intriguing  or  mixing  young 
love  with  the  repast.  Miss  Current  was  an  admirable  neu- 
tral, sent,  as  the  Countess  fervently  believed,  by  Providence. 
Till  now  the  Countess  had  drawn  upon  her  own  resources  to 
amuse  the  company,  and  she  had  been  obliged  to  restrain 
herself  from  doing  it  with  that  unctuous  feeling  for  rank 
which  warmed  her  Portuguese  sketches  in  low  society  and 
among  her  sisters.  She  retired  before  Miss  Current  and 
formed  audience,  glad  of  a  relief  to  her  inventive  labour. 
While  Miss  Current  and  her  ephemerals  lightly  skimmed 
the  surface  of  human  life,  the  Countess  worked  in  the  depths. 


166  EVAN  HARKINQTON 

Vanities,  passions,  prejudices  beneath  the  surface,  gave  her 
full  employment.  How  naturally  poor  Juliana  Bonner  was 
moved  to  mistake  Evan's  compassion  for  a  stronger  senti- 
n\ent !  The  Countess  eagerly  assisted  Providence  to  shuffle 
the  company  into  their  proper  places,  Harry  Jocelyn  was 
moodily  happy,  but  good ;  greatly  improved  in  the  eyes  of 
his  grandmama  Bonner,  who  attributed  the  change  to  the 
Countess,  and  partly  forgave  her  the  sinful  consent  to  the 
conditions  of  her  love-match  with  the  foreign  Count,  which 
his  penitent  wife  had  privately  confessed  to  that  strict 
Churchwoman. 

"Thank  Heaven  that  you  have  no  children,"  Mrs.  Bonner 
had  said;  and  the  Countess  humbly  replied:  "It  is  indeed 
my  remorseful  consolation !  " 

"Who  knows  that  it  is  not  your  punishment?"  added 
Mrs.  Bonner;  the  Countess  weeping. 

She  went  and  attended  morning  prayers  in  Mrs.  Bonner's 
apartments,  alone  with  the  old  lady.  "  To  make  up  for  lost 
time  in  Catholic  Portugal !  "  she  explained  it  to  the  house- 
hold. 

On  the  morning  after  Miss  Current  had  come  to  shape 
the  party,  most  of  the  inmates  of  Beckley  Court  being  at 
breakfast.  Rose  gave  a  lead  to  the  conversation. 

"Aunt  Bel!  I  want  to  ask  you  something.  We've  been 
making  bets  about  you.  Now,  answer  honestly,  we're  all 
friends.     Why  did  you  refuse  all  your  offers?" 

"Quite  simple,  child,"  replied  the  unabashed  ex-beauty. 
"  A  matter  of  taste.  I  liked  twenty  shillings  better  than  a 
sovereign." 

Rose  looked  puzzled,  but  the  men  laughed,  and  Rose 
exclaimed : 

"  Now  I  see !  How  stupid  I  am !  You  mean,  you  may 
have  friends  when  you  are  not  married.  Well,  I  think 
that's  the  wisest,  after  all.  You  don't  lose  them,  do  you? 
Pray,  Mr.  Evan,  are  you  thinking  Aunt  Bel  might  still  alter 
her  mind  for  somebody,  if  she  knew  his  value?" 

"  I  was  presuming  to  hope  there  might  be  a  place  vacant 
among  the  twenty,"  said  Evan,  slightly  bowing  to  both. 
"Am  I  pardoned?" 

"  I  like  you ! "  returned  Aunt  Bel,  nodding  at  him. 
"Where  do  you  come  from?  A  young  man  who'll  let  him- 
self go  for  small  coin's  a  jewel  worth  knowing." 


SKIRMISH   BETWEEN  ROSE  AND   EVAN  167 

"Where  do  I  come  from?"  drawled  Laxley,  who  had 
been  tapping  an  egg  with  a  dreary  expression. 

"Aunt  Bel  spoke  to  Mr.  Harrington,"  said  Rose,  pet- 
tishly. 

"Asked  him  where  he  came  from,"  Laxley  continued  his 
drawl.  "  He  didn't  answer,  so  I  thought  it  polite  for  another 
of  the  twenty  to  strike  in." 

"I  must  thank  you  expressly,"  said  Evan,  and  achieved 
a  cordial  bow. 

Eose  gave  Evan  one  of  her  bright  looks,  and  then  called 
the  attention  of  Ferdinand  Laxley  to  the  fact  that  he  had 
lost  a  particular  bet  made  among  them. 

"What  bet?"  asked  Laxley.     "About  the  profession?" 

A  stream  of  colour  shot  over  Rose's  face.  Her  eyes  flew 
nervously  from  Laxley  to  Evan,  and  then  to  Drummond. 
Laxley  appeared  pleased  as  a  man  who  has  made  a  witty 
sally:  Evan  was  outwardly  calm,  while  Drummond  replied 
to  the  mute  appeal  of  Rose,  by  saying : 

"Yes;  we've  all  lost.  But  who  could  hit  it?  The  lady 
admits  no  sovereign  in  our  sex." 

"So  you've  been  betting  about  me?"  said  Aunt  Bel. 
"I'll  settle  the  dispute.  Let  him  who  guessed  'Latin' 
pocket  the  stakes,  and,  if  I  guess  him,  let  him  hand  them 
over  to  me." 

"  Excellent !  "  cried  Rose.  "  One  did  guess  'Latin, '  Aunt 
Bel!     Xow,  tell  us  which  one  it  was." 

"Not  you,  my  dear.     You  guessed  'temper.'  " 

"No!  you  dreadful  Aunt  Bel!  " 

"Let  me  see,"  said  Aunt  Bel,  seriously.  "A  young  man 
would  not  marry  a  woman  with  Latin,  but  would  not  guess 
it  the  impediment.  Gentlemen  moderately  aged  are  mad 
enough  to  slip  their  heads  under  any  yoke,  but  see  the 

obstruction It  was  a  man  of  forty  guessed  'Latin.' 

I  request  the  Hon.  Hamilton  Everard  Jocelyn  to  con- 
firm it." 

Amid  laughter  and  exclamations  Hamilton  confessed 
himself  the  man  who  had  guessed  Latin  to  be  the  cause 
of  Miss  Current's  remaining  an  old  maid;  Rose,  crying: 
"  You  really  are  too  clever,  Aunt  Bel !  " 

A  divergence  to  other  themes  ensued,  and  then  Miss 
Jentiy  Graine  said :  "  Isn't  Juley  learning  Latin?  I  should 
like  to  join  her  while  I'm  here." 


168  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"And  so  should  I,"  responded  Rose.  "My  friend 
Evan  is  teaching  her  during  the  intervals  of  his  arduous 
diplomatic  labours.  Will  you  take  us  into  your  class, 
Evan?" 

"Don't  be  silly,  girls,"  interposed  Aunt  Bel.  "Do  you 
want  to  graduate  for  my  state  with  your  eyes  open?" 

Evan  objected  his  poor  qualifications  as  a  tutor,  and 
Aunt  Bel  remarked,  that  if  Juley  learnt  Latin  at  all,  she 
should  have  regular  instruction. 

"I  am  quite  satisfied,"  said  Juley,  quietly. 

"Of  course  you  are,"  Rose  snubbed  her  cousin.  "So 
would  anybody  be.  But  Mama  really  was  talking  of  a  tutor 
for  Juley,  if  she  could  find  one.  There's  a  school  at  Bodley ; 
but  that's  too  far  for  one  of  the  men  to  come  over." 

A  school  at  Bodley !  thought  Evan,  and  his  probationary 
years  at  the  Cudford  Establishment  rose  before  him ;  and 
therewith,  for  the  first  time  since  his  residence  at  Beckley, 
the  figure  of  John  Raikes. 

"There's  a  friend  of  mine,"  he  said,  aloud,  "I  think  if 
Lady  Jocelyn  does  wish  Miss  Bonner  to  learn  Latin  thor- 
oughly, he  would  do  very  well  for  the  groundwork,  and 
would  be  glad  of  the  employment.     He  is  very  poor." 

"If  he's  poor  and  a  friend  of  yours,  Evan,  we'll  have 
him,"  said  Rose:  "we'll  ride  and  fetch  him." 

"Yes,"  added  Miss  Carrington,  ''that  must  be  quite 
sufficient  qualification." 

Juliana  was  not  gazing  gratefully  at  Evan  for  his  pro- 
posal. 

Rose  asked  the  name  of  Evan's  friend. 

"His  name  is  Raikes,"  answered  Evan.  "I  don't  know 
where  he  is  now.  He  may  be  at  Fallowfield.  If  Lady 
Jocelyn  pleases,  I  will  ride  over  to-day  and  see." 

"  My  dear  Evan ! "  cried  Rose,  "  you  don't  mean  that 
absurd  figure  we  saw  on  the  cricket-field?  "  She  burst  out 
laughing.  "Oh!  what  fun  it  will  be!  Let  us  have  him 
here  by  all  means." 

"I  shall  not  bring  him  to  be  laughed  at,"  said  Evain. 

"I  will  remember  he  is  your  friend,"  Rose  returned 
demurely;  and  again  laughed,  as  she  related  to  Jenny 
Graine  the  comic  appearance  Mr,  Raikes  had  presented. 

Laxley  waited  for  a  pause,  and  then  said :  "  I  have  met 


SKIRMISH  BETWEEN  ROSE  AIJO)   EVAN  169 

this  Mr.  Raikes.  As  a  friend  of  the  family,  I  should  pro- 
test against  his  admission  here  in  any  office  whatever  — 
into  the  upper  part  of  the  house,  at  least.  He  is  not  a 
gentleman." 

"We  don't  want  teachers  to  be  gentlemen,"  observed 
Rose. 

"This  fellow  is  the  reverse,"  Laxley  pronounced,  and 
desired  Harry  to  confirm  itj  but  Harry  took  a  gulp  of 
cofEee. 

"  Oblige  me  by  recollecting  that  I  have  called  him  a 
friend  of  mine,"  said  Evan. 

Rose  murmured  to  him:  "Pray  forgive  me!  I  forgot." 
Laxley  hummed  something  about  "taste."  Aunt  Bel  led 
from  the  theme  by  a  lively  anecdote. 

After  breakfast  the  party  broke  into  knots,  and  canvassed 
Laxley's  behaviour  to  Evan,  which  was  generally  con- 
demned. Rose  met  the  young  men  strolling  on  the  lawn; 
and,  with  her  usual  bluntness,  accused  Laxley  of  wishing 
to  insult  her  friend. 

"I  speak  to  him  —  do  I  not?"  said  Laxley.  "What 
would  you  have  more?  I  admit  the  obligation  of  speaking 
to  him  when  I  meet  him  in  your  house.  Out  of  it  —  that's 
another  matter." 

"  But  what  is  the  cause  for  your  conduct  to  him,  Ferdi- 
nand? " 

"  By  Jove !  "  cried  Harry,  "  I  wonder  he  puts  up  with  it : 
I  wouldn't.     I'd  have  a  shot  with  you,  my  boy." 

"Extremely  honoured,"  said  Laxley.  "But  neither  you 
nor  I  care  to  fight  tailors." 

"  Tailors !  "  exclaimed  Rose.  There  was  a  sharp  twitch 
in  her  body,  as  if  she  had  been  stung  or  struck. 

"  Look  here.  Rose,"  said  Laxley ;  "  I  meet  him,  he  insults 
me,  and  to  get  out  of  the  consequences  tells  me  he's  the  son 
of  a  tailor,  and  a  tailor  himself;  knowing  that  it  ties  my 
hands.  Very  well,  he  puts  himself  hors  de  combat  to  save 
his  bones.  Let  him  unsay  it,  and  choose  whether  he'll 
apologize  or  not,  and  I'll  treat  him  accordingly.  At  pres- 
ent I'm  not  bound  to  do  more  than  respect  the  house  I  find 
he  has  somehow  got  admission  to." 

"It's  clear  it  was  that  other  fellow,"  said  Harry,  casting 
a  side-glance  up  at  the  Countess's  window. 


170  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

Rose  looked  straight  at  Laxley,  and  abruptly  turned  on 
her  heel. 

In  the  afternoon,  Lady  Jocelyn  sent  a  message  to  Evan 
that  she  wished  to  see  him.  Rose  was  with  her  mother. 
Lady  Jocelyn  had  only  to  say,  that  if  he  thought  his  friend 
a  suitable  tutor  for  Miss  Bonner,  they  would  be  happy  to 
give  him  the  office  at  Beckley  Court.  Glad  to  befriend  poor 
Jack,  Evan  gave  the  needful  assurances,  and  was  requested 
to  go  and  fetch  hira  forthwith.  When  he  left  the  room, 
Rose  marched  out  silently  beside  him. 

"Will  you  ride  over  with  me,  Rose?"  he  said,  though 
scarcely  anxious  that  she  should  see  Mr.  Raikes  immedi- 
ately. 

The  singular  sharpness  of  her  refusal  astonished  him 
none  the  less. 

"Thank  you,  no;  I  would  rather  not." 

A  lover  is  ever  ready  to  suspect  that  water  has  been 
thrown  on  the  fire  that  burns  for  him  in  the  bosom  of  his 
darling.  Sudden  as  the  change  was,  it  was  very  decided. 
His  sensitive  ears  were  pained  by  the  absence  of  his  Chris- 
tian name,  which  her  lips  had  lavishly  made  sweet  to  him. 

He  stopped  in  his  walk. 

"  You  spoke  of  riding  to  Eallowfield.  Is  it  possible  you 
don't  want  me  to  bring  my  friend  here?  There's  time  to 
prevent  it." 

Judged  by  the  Countess  de  Saldar,  the  behaviour  of  this 
well-born  English  maid  was  anything  but  well-bred.  She 
absolutely  shrugged  her  shoulders  and  marched  a-head  of 
him  into  the  conservatory,  where  she  began  smelling  at 
flowers  and  plucking  off  sere  leaves. 

In  such  cases  a  young  man  always  follows ;  as  her  womanly 
instinct  must  have  told  her,  for  she  expressed  no  surprise 
when  she  heard  his  voice  two  minutes  after. 

"Rose!  what  have  I  done?" 

"Nothing  at  all,"  she  said,  sweeping  her  eyes  over  his  a 
moment,  and  resting  them  on  the  plants. 

"  I  must  have  uttered  something  that  has  displeased  you." 

"No." 

Brief  negatives  are  not  re-assuring  to  a  lover's  uneasy 
mind. 

"  I  beg  you  —    Be  frank  with  me,  Rose ! " 


IN  WHICH  EVAN  WRITES  HIMSELP   TAILOR      171 

A  flame  of  the  vanished  fire  shone  in  her  face,  but  sub- 
sided, and  she  shook  her  head  darkly. 

"  Have  you  any  objection  to  my  friend?  " 

Her  fingers  grew  petulant  with  an  orange  leaf.  Eyeing 
a  spot  on  it,  she  said  hesitatingly : 

"  Any  friend  of  yours  I  am  sure  I  should  like  to  help. 
But  —  but  I  wish  you  wouldn't  associate  with  that  —  that 
kind  of  friend.     It  gives  people  all  sorts  of  suspicions." 

Evan  drew  a  sharp  breath. 

The  voices  of  Master  Alec  and  Miss  Dorothy  were  heard 
shouting  on  the  lawn.  Alec  gave  Dorothy  the  slip  and 
approached  the  conservatory  on  tip-toe,  holding  his  hand 
out  behind  him  to  enjoin  silence  and  secrecy.  The  pair 
could  witness  the  scene  through  the  glass  before  Evan 
spoke. 

"What  suspicions?"  he  asked. 

Rose  looked  up,  as  if  the  harshness  of  his  tone  pleased 
her. 

"  Do  you  like  red  roses  best,  or  white?  "  was  her  answer, 
moving  to  a  couple  of  trees  in  pots. 

"  Can't  make  up  your  mind?  "  she  continued,  and  plucked 
both  a  white  and  red  rose,  saying:  "There!  choose  your 
colour  by-and-by,  and  ask  Juley  to  sew  the  one  you  choose 
in  your  button-hole," 

She  laid  the  roses  in  his  hand,  and  walked  away.  She 
must  have  known  that  there  was  a  burden  of  speech  on  his 
tongue.  She  saw  him  move  to  follow  her,  but  this  time  she 
did  not  linger,  and  it  may  be  inferred  that  she  wished  to 
hear  no  more. 


CHAPTER  XVII 

IN   WHICH   EVAN   WRITES    HIMSELF   TAILOR 

The  only  philosophic  method  of  discovering  what  a  young 
woman  means,  and  Avhat  is  in  her  mind,  is  that  zigzag  pro- 
cess of  inquiry  conducted  by  following  her  actions,  for  she 
can  tell  you  nothing,  and  if  she  does  not  want  to  know  a 


172  EVAN   HARKINGTON 

particular  matter,  it  must  be  a  strong  beam  from  the  cen- 
tral system  of  facts  that  shall  penetrate  her.  Clearly  there 
was  a  disturbance  in  the  bosom  of  Rose  Jocelyn,  and  one 
might  fancy  that  amiable  mirror  as  being  wilfully  ruffled 
to  confuse  a  thing  it  was  asked  by  the  heavens  to  reflect: 
a  good  fight  fought  by  all  young  people  at  a  certain  period, 
and  now  and  then  by  an  old  fool  or  two.  The  young  it 
seasons  and  strengthens;  the  old  it  happily  kills  off;  and 
thus,  what  is,  is  made  to  work  harmoniously  with  what  we 
would  have  be. 

After  quitting  Evan,  Rose  hied  to  her  friend  Jenny 
Graine,  and  in  the  midst  of  sweet  millinery  talk,  darted 
the  odd  question,  whether  baronets  or  knights  ever  were 
tradesmen :  to  which  Scottish  Jenny,  entirely  putting  aside 
the  shades  of  beatified  aldermen  and  the  illustrious  list  of 
mayors  that  have  welcomed  royalty,  replied  that  it  was  a 
thing  quite  impossible.  Rose  then  wished  to  know  if 
tailors  were  thought  worse  of  than  other  tradesmen. 
Jenny,  premising  that  she  was  no  authority,  stated  she 
imagined  she  had  heard  that  they  were. 

"Why?"  said  Rose,  no  doubt  because  she  was  desirous 
of  seeing  justice  dealt  to  that  class.  But  Jenny's  bosom 
was  a  smooth  reflector  of  facts  alone. 

Rose  pondered,  and  said  with  compressed  eagerness, 
"Jenny,  do  you  think  you  could  ever  bring  yourself  to 
consent  to  care  at  all  for  anybody  ever  talked  of  as  belong- 
ing to  them?     Tell  me." 

Now  Jenny  had  come  to  Beckley  Court  to  meet  William 
Harvey:  she  was  therefore  sufficiently  soft  to  think  she 
could  care  for  him  whatever  his  origin  were,  and  composed 
in  the  knowledge  that  no  natal  stigma  was  upon  him  to  try 
the  strength  of  her  affection.  Designing  to  generalize,  as 
women  do  (and  seem  tempted  to  do  most  when  they  are 
secretly  speaking  from  their  own  emotions),  she  said,  shyly 
moving  her  shoulders,  with  a  forefinger  laying  down  the 
principle : 

"  You  know,  my  dear,  if  one  esteemed  such  a  person  very 
very  much,  and  were  quite  sure,  without  any  doubt,  that  he 
liked  you  in  return  —  that  is,  completely  liked  you,  and  was 
quite  devoted,  and  made  no  concealment  —  I  mean,  if  he  was 
very  superior,  and  like  other  men  —  you  know  what  I  mean 


IN  WHICH  EVAN  WBITES   HIMSELF  TAILOR      173 

—  and  had  none  of  the  cringing  ways  some  of  them  have  — 
I  mean,  supposing  him  gay  and  handsome,  taking " 

"Just  like  William,"  Rose  cut  her  short;  and  we  may 
guess  her  to  have  had  some  one  in  her  head  for  her  to  con- 
ceive that  Jenny  must  be  speaking  of  any  one  in  particular. 

A  young  lady  who  can  have  male  friends,  as  well  as 
friends  of  her  own  sex,  is  not  usually  pressing  and  secret 
in  her  confidences,  possibly  because  such  a  young  lady  is 
not  always  nursing  baby-passions,  and  does  not  require  her 
sex's  coddling  and  posseting  to  keep  them  alive.  With 
Rose  love  will  be  full  grown  when  it  is  once  avowed,  and 
will  know  where  to  go  to  be  nourished. 

"Merely  an  idea  I  had,"  she  said  to  Jenny,  who  betrayed 
her  mental  pre-occupation  by  putting  the  question  for  the 
questions  last. 

Her  uncle  Melville  next  received  a  visit  from  the  rest- 
less young  woman.  To  him  she  spoke  not  a  word  of  the 
inferior  classes,  but  as  a  special  favourite  of  the  diploma- 
tist's, begged  a  gift  of  him  for  her  proximate  birthday. 
Pushed  to  explain  what  it  was,  she  said,  "  It's  something  I 
want  you  to  do  for  a  friend  of  mine.  Uncle  Mel." 

The  diplomatist  instanced  a  few  of  the  modest  requests 
little  maids  prefer  to  people  they  presume  to  have  power 
to  grant. 

"No,  it's  nothing  nonsensical,"  said  Rose;  "I  want  you 
to  get  my  friend  Evan  an  appointment.  You  can  if  you 
like,  you  know.  Uncle  Mel,  and  it's  a  shame  to  make  him 
lose  his  time  when  he's  young  and  does  his  work  so  well  — 
that  you  can't  deny!  Now,  please,  be  positive.  Uncle  Mel. 
You  know  I  hate  —  I  have  no  faith  in  your  'nous  verrons.' 
Say  you  will,  and  at  once." 

The  diplomatist  pretended  to  have  his  weather-eye  awa- 
kened. 

"You  seem  very  anxious  about  feathering  the  young 
fellow's  nest,  Rosey?" 

"There,"  cried  Rose,  with  a  maiden's  mature  experience 
of  us,  "  isn't  that  just  like  men?  They  never  can  believe 
you  can  be  entirely  disinterested ! " 

"  Hulloa !  "  the  diplomatist  sung  out,  "  I  didn't  say  any- 
thing, Rosey." 

She  reddened  at  her  hastiness,  but  retrieved  it  by  saying : 


174  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

"No,  but  you  listen  to  your  wife;  you  know  you  do, 
Uncle  Mel;  and  now  there's  Aunt  Shorne  and  the  other 
women,  who  make  you  think  just  what  they  like  about 
me,  because  they  hate  Mama." 

"Don't  use  strong  words,  my  dear." 

"  But  it's  abominable !  "  cried  Eose.  "  They  asked  Mama 
yesterday  what  Evan's  being  here  meant?  Why,  of  course, 
he's  your  secretary,  and  my  friend,  and  Mama  very  prop- 
erly stopped  them,  and  so  will  I !  As  for  me,  I  intend  to 
stay  at  Beckley,  I  can  tell  you,  dear  old  boy."  Uncle  Mel 
had  a  soft  arm  round  his  neck,  and  was  being  fondled. 
"  And  rm  not  going  to  be  bred  up  to  go  into  a  harem,  you 
may  be  sure." 

The  diplomatist  whistled,  "You  talk  your  mother  with 
a  vengeance,  Rosey." 

"And  she's  the  only  sensible  woman  I  know,"  said  Rose. 
"Now  promise  me  —  in  earnest.  Don't  let  them  mislead 
you,  for  you  know  you're  quite  a  child,  out  of  your  politics, 
and  I  shall  take  you  in  hand  myself.  Why,  now,  think. 
Uncle  Mel!  wouldn't  any  girl,  as  silly  as  they  make  me 
out,  hold  her  tongue  —  not  talk  of  him,  as  I  do ;  and  because 
I  really  do  feel  for  him  as  a  friend.  See  the  difference  be- 
tween me  and  Juley ! " 

It  was  a  sad  sign  if  Rose  was  growing  a  bit  of  a  hypo- 
crite, but  this  instance  of  Juliana's  different  manner  of 
showing  her  feelings  toward  Evan  would  have  quieted  sus- 
picion in  shrewder  men,  for  Juliana  watched  Evan's  shadow, 
and  it  was  thought  by  two  or  three  at  Beckley  Court,  that 
Evan  would  be  conferring  a  benefit  on  all  by  carrying  off 
the  romantically-inclined  but  little  presentable  young  lady. 

The  diplomatist,  with  a  placid  "  Well,  well !  "  ultimately 
promised  to  do  his  best  for  Rose's  friend,  and  then  Rose 
said,  "Now  I  leave  you  to  the  Countess,"  and  went  and  sat 
with  her  mother  and  Drummond  Forth.  The  latter  was 
strange  in  his  conduct  to  Evan.  While  blaming  Laxley's 
unmannered  behaviour,  he  seemed  to  think  Laxley  had 
grounds  for  it,  and  treated  Evan  with  a  sort  of  cynical  def- 
erence that  had,  for  the  last  couple  of  days,  exasperated 
Rose. 

"Mama,  you  must  speak  to  Ferdinand,"  she  burst  upon 
the  conversation,  "  Drummond  is  afraid  to  —  he  can  stand 


IN   WHICH   EVAN   WRITES   HIMSELF   TAILOR      175 

by  and  see  my  friend  insulted.  Ferdinand  is  insufferable 
with  his  pride  —  he's  jealous  of  everybody  who  has  man- 
ners, and  Drummond  approves  him,  and  I  will  not  bear  it." 

Lady  Jocelyn  hated  household  worries,  and  quietly  re- 
marked that  the  young  men  must  fight  it  out  together. 

"No,  but  it's  your  duty  to  interfere,  Mama,"  said  Rose; 
"and  I  know  you  will  when  I  tell  you  that  Ferdinand 
declares  my  friend  Evan  is  a  tradesman  —  beneath  his 
notice.     Why,  it  insults  me ! " 

Lady  Jocelyn  looked  out  from  a  lofty  window  on  such 
veritable  squabbles  of  boys  and  girls  as  Rose  revealed. 

"  Can't  you  help  them  to  run  on  smoothly  while  they're 
here?"  she  said  to  Drummond,  and  he  related  the  scene  at 
the  Green  Dragon. 

"  I  think  I  heard  he  was  the  son  of  Sir  Something  Har- 
rington, Devonshire  people,"  said  Lady  Jocelyn. 

"Yes,  he  is,"  cried  Rose,  "or  closely  related.  I'm  sure 
I  understood  the  Countess  that  it  was  so.  She  brought  the 
paper  with  the  death  in  it  to  us  in  London,  and  shed  tears 
over  it." 

"She  showed  it  in  the  paper,  and  shed  tears  over  it?" 
said  Drummond,  repressing  an  inclination  to  laugh.  "  Was 
her  father's  title  given  in  full?" 

"Sir  Abraham  Harrington,"  replied  Rose.  "I  think  she 
said  father,  if  the  word  wasn't  too  common-place  for  her." 

"  You  can  ask  old  Tom  when  he  comes,  if  you  are  anxious 
to  know,"  said  Drummond  to  her  ladyship.  "His  brother 
married  one  of  the  sisters.  By  the  way,  he's  coming,  too. 
He  ought  to  clear  up  the  mystery." 

"  Now  you're  sneering,  Drummond,"  said  Rose :  "  for  you 
know  there's  no  mystery  to  clear  up." 

Drummond  and  Lady  Jocelyn  began  talking  of  old  Tom 
Cogglesby,  whom,  it  appeared,  the  former  knew  intimately, 
and  the  latter  had  known. 

"  The  Cogglesbys  are  sons  of  a  cobbler,  Rose,"  said  Lady 
Jocelyn.     "  You  must  try  and  be  civil  to  them." 

"  Of  course  I  shall.  Mama,"  Rose  answered  seriously. 

"And  help  the  poor  Countess  to  bear  their  presence  as 
well  as  possible,"  said  Drummond.  "  The  Harringtons  have 
had  to  mourn  a  dreadful  mhalliance.     Pity  the  Countess ! " 

"Oh!  the  Countess!  the  Countess!"  exclaimed  Rose  to 


176  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Drummond's  pathetic  shake  of  the  head.  She  and  Drum- 
mond  were  fully  agreed  about  the  Countess ;  Drummond 
mimicking  the  lady :  "  In  verity,  she  is  most  mellifluous ! " 
while  Rose  sugared  her  lips  and  leaned  gracefully  forward 
with  "  De  Saldar,  let  me  petition  you  —  since  we  must  en- 
dure our  title  —  since  it  is  not  to  be  your  Louisa  ?  "  and  her 
eyes  sought  the  ceiling,  and  her  hand  slowly  melted  into 
her  drapery,  as  the  Countess  was  wont  to  effect  it. 

Lady  Jocelyn  laughed,  but  said :  "  You're  too  hard  upon 
the  Countess.  The  female  euphuist  is  not  to  be  met  with 
every  day.  It's  a  different  kind  from  the  Pr^cieuse.  She 
is  not  a  Precieuse.  She  has  made  a  capital  selection  of  her 
vocabulary  from  Johnson,  and  does  not  work  it  badly,  if  we 
may  judge  by  Harry  and  Melville.  Euphuism  in  'woman' 
is  the  popular  ideal  of  a  Duchess.  She  has  it  by  nature,  or 
she  has  studied  it :  and  if  so,  you  must  respect  her  abilities." 

"  Yes  —  Harry ! "  said  Rose,  who  was  angry  at  a  loss  of 
influence  over  her  rough  brother,  "any  one  could  manage 
Harry !  and  Uncle  Mel's  a  goose.  You  should  see  what  a 
*  female  euphuist '  Dorry  is  getting.  She  says  in  the  Coun- 
tess's hearing :  '  Rose  !  I  should  in  verity  wish  to  play,  if  it 
were  pleasing  to  my  sweet  cousin  ? '  I'm  ready  to  die  with 
laughing.     I  don't  do  it.  Mama." 

The  Countess,  thus  being  discussed,  was  closeted  with  old 
Mrs.  Bonner:  not  idle.  Like  Hannibal  in  Italy,  she  had 
crossed  her  Alps  in  attaining  Beckley  Court,  and  here  in 
the  enemy's  country  the  wary  general  found  herself  imder 
the  necessity  of  throwing  up  entrenchments  to  fly  to  in  case 
of  defeat.  Sir  Abraham  Harrington  of  Torquay,  who  had 
helped  her  to  cross  the  Alps,  became  a  formidable  barrier 
against  her  return. 

Meantime  Evan  was  riding  over  to  Fallowfield,  and  as  he 
rode  under  black  visions  between  the  hedgeways  crowned 
with  their  hop-garlands,  a  fragrance  of  roses  saluted  his 
nostril,  and  he  called  to  mind  the  red  and  the  white  the 
peerless  representative  of  the  two  had  given  him,  and  which 
he  had  thrust  sullenly  in  his  breast-pocket:  and  he  drew 
them  out  to  look  at  them  reproachfully  and  sigh  farewell  to 
all  the  roses  of  life,  when  in  company  with  them  he  found 
in  his  hand  the  forgotten  letter  delivered  to  him  on  the 
cricket-field  the  day  of  the  memorable  match.     He  smelt 


IN  WHICH  EVAN  WRITES  HIMSELF  TAILOR      177 

at  the  roses,  and  turned  the  letter  this  way  and  that.  His 
name  was  correctly  worded  on  the  outside.  With  an  odd 
reluctance  to  open  it,  he  kept  trifling  over  the  flowers,  and 
then  broke  the  broad  seal,  and  these  are  the  words  that  met 
his  eyes : 

"  Mr.  Evan  Haerington. 

"  You  have  made  up  your  mind  to  be  a  tailor,  instead  of 
a  Tomnoddy,  You're  right.  Not  too  many  men  in  the 
world  —  plenty  of  nincompoops. 

"  Don't  be  made  a  weathercock  of  by  a  parcel  of  women. 
I  want  to  find  a  man  worth  something.  If  you  go  on  with 
it,  you  shall  end  by  riding  in  your  carriage,  and  cutting  it 
as  fine  as  any  of  them.  I'll  take  care  your  belly  is  not 
punished  while  you're  about  it. 

"  From  the  time  your  name  is  over  your  shop,  I  give  you 
300Z.  per  annum. 

"  Or  stop.  There's  nine  of  you.  They  shall  have  40Z.  per 
annum  apiece,  9  times  40,  eh  ?  That's  better  than  3001.,  if 
you  know  how  to  reckon.  Don't  you  wish  it  was  ninety- 
nine  tailors  to  a  man !  I  could  do  that  too,  and  it  would 
not  break  me ;  so  don't  be  a  proud  young  ass,  or  I'll  throw 
my  money  to  the  geese.  Lots  of  them  in  the  world.  How 
many  geese  to  a  tailor  ? 

"  Go  on  for  five  years,  and  I  double  it. 

"  Give  it  up,  and  I  give  you  up. 

"  No  question  about  me.  The  first  tailor  can  be  paid  his 
40Z.  in  advance,  by  applying  at  the  offices  of  Messrs.  Grist, 
Gray's  Inn  Square,  Gray's  Inn.  Let  him  say  he  is  tailor 
No.  1,  and  show  this  letter,  signed  Agreed,  with  your  name 
in  full  at  bottom.  This  will  do  —  money  will  be  paid  —  no 
questions  one  side  or  other.  So  on  —  the  whole  nine.  The 
end  of  the  year  they  can  give  a  dinner  to  their  acquaint- 
ance.    Send  in  bill  to  Messrs.  Grist. 

"  The  advice  to  you  to  take  the  cash  according  to  terms 
mentioned  is  advice  of 

«A  Friend." 

"  P.  S.  You  shall  have  your  wine.  Consult  among  your- 
selves, and  carry  it  by  majority  what  wine  it's  to  be.  Five 
carries  it.  Dozen  and  half  per  tailor,  per  annum  —  that's 
the  limit." 


178  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

It  was  certainly  a  very  hot  day.  The  pores  of  his  skin 
were  prickling,  and  his  face  was  fiery ;  and  yet  he  increased 
his  pace,  and  broke  into  a  wild  gallop  for  a  mile  or  so  ;  then 
suddenly  turned  his  horse's  head  back  for  Beckley.  The 
secret  of  which  evolution  was,  that  he  had  caught  the  idea 
of  a  plotted  insult  of  Laxley's  in  the  letter,  for  when  the 
blood  is  up  we  are  drawn  the  way  the  tide  sets  strongest, 
and  Evan  was  prepared  to  swear  that  Laxley  had  written 
the  letter,  because  he  was  burning  to  chastise  the  man  who 
had  injured  him  with  Rose, 

Sure  that  he  was  about  to  confirm  his  suspicion,  he  read 
it  again,  gazed  upon  Beckley  Court  in  the  sultry  light,  and 
turned  for  Fallowfield  once  more,  devising  to  consult  Mr. 
John  Raikes  on  the  subject. 

The  letter  had  a  smack  of  crabbed  age  hardly  counter- 
feit. The  savour  of  an  old  eccentric  sour  generosity  was 
there.  Evan  fell  into  bitter  laughter  at  the  idea  of  Rose 
glancing  over  his  shoulder  and  asking  him  what  nine  of 
him  to  a  man  meant.  He  heard  her  clear  voice  pursuing 
him.  He  could  not  get  away  from  the  mocking  sound  of 
Rose  beseeching  him  to  instruct  her  on  that  point.  How 
if  the  letter  were  genuine  ?  He  began  to  abhor  the  sight 
and  touch  of  the  paper,  for  it  struck  division  cold  as  death 
between  him  and  his  darling.  He  saw  now  the  immeas- 
urable hopes  his  residence  at  Beckley  had  lured  him  to. 
Rose  had  slightly  awakened  him :  this  letter  was  blank  day 
to  his  soul.  He  saw  the  squalid  shop,  the  good,  stern,  bar- 
ren-spirited mother,  the  changeless  drudgery,  the  existence 
which  seemed  indeed  no  better  than  what  the  ninth  of  a 
man  was  fit  for.  The  influence  of  his  mother  came  on  him 
once  more.  Dared  he  reject  the  gift  if  true  ?  No  spark  of 
gratitude  could  he  feel,  but  chained,  dragged  at  the  heels 
of  his  fate,  he  submitted  to  think  it  true ;  resolving  the 
next  moment  that  it  was  a  fabrication  and  a  trap :  but  he 
flung  away  the  roses. 

As  idle  as  a  painted  cavalier  iipon  a  painted  drop-scene, 
the  figure  of  Mr.  John  Raikes  was  to  be  observed  leaning 
with  crossed  legs  against  a  shady  pillar  of  the  Green  Dragon ; 
eyeing  alternately,  with  an  indifference  he  did  not  care  to 
conceal,  the  assiduous  pecking  in  the  dust  of  some  cocks 
and  hens  that  had  strayed  from  the  yard  of  the  inn,  and 


IN   WHICH   EVAN   WRITES   HIMSELF   TAILOR      179 

the  sleepy  blinking  in  the  sun  of  an  old  dog  at  his  feet : 
nor  did  Evan's  appearance  discompose  the  sad  sedateness 
of  his  demeanour. 

"  Yes ;  I  am  here  still,"  he  answered  Evan's  greeting, 
with  a  flaccid  gesture.  "  Don't  excite  me  too  much,  A 
little  at  a  time.     I  can't  bear  it !  " 

"  How  now  ?     What  is  it  now,  Jack  ?  "  said  Evan. 

Mr.  Kaikes  pointed  at  the  dog.  "  I've  made  a  bet  with 
myself  he  won't  wag  his  tail  within  the  next  ten  minutes. 
I  beg  of  you,  Harrington,  to  remain  silent  for  both  our 
sakes." 

Evan  was  induced  to  look  at  the  dog,  and  the  dog  looked 
at  him,  and  gently  moved  his  tail. 

"  I've  lost !  "  cried  Raikes,  in  languid  anguish.  "  He's 
getting  excited.  He'll  go  mad.  We're  not  accustomed  to 
this  in  Eallowfield." 

Evan  dismounted,  and  was  going  to  tell  him  the  news  he 
had  for  him,  when  his  attention  was  distracted  by  the  sight 
of  Eose's  maid,  Polly  Wheedle,  splendidly  bonneted,  who 
slipped  past  them  into  the  inn,  after  repulsing  Jack's  care- 
less attempt  to  caress  her  chin ;  which  caused  him  to  tell 
Evan  that  he  could  not  get  on  without  the  society  of  intel- 
lectual women. 

Evan  called  a  bo)'-  to  hold  the  horse. 

"  Have  you  seen  her  before,  Jack  ?  " 

Jack  replied :  "  Once.  Your  pensioner  up-stairs  she 
comes  to  visit.  I  do  suspect  there  kinship  is  betwixt  them. 
Ay !  one  might  swear  them  sisters.  She's  a  relief  to  the 
monotony  of  the  petrified  street  —  the  old  man  with  the 
brown-gaitered  legs  and  the  doubled-up  old  woman  with 
the  crutch.     I  heard  the  London  horn  this  morning." 

Evan  thrust  the  letter  in  his  hands,  telling  him  to  read 
and  form  an  opinion  on  it,  and  went  in  the  track  of  Miss 
Wheedle. 

Mr.  Raikes  resumed  his  station  against  the  pillar,  and 
held  the  letter  out  on  a  level  with  his  thigh.  Acting  (as 
it  was  his  nature  to  do  off  the  stage),  he  had  not  exagger- 
ated his  profound  melancholy.  Of  a  light  soil  and  with 
a  tropical  temperament,  he  had  exhausted  all  lively  recol- 
lection of  his  brilliant  career,  and,  in  the  short  time  since 
Evan  had  parted  with  him,  sunk  abjectly  down  into  the 


180  EVAN  HAERINGTON 

belief  that  he  was  fixed  in  Fallowfield  for  life.  His  spirit 
pined  for  agitation  and  events.  The  horn  of  the  London 
coach  had  sounded  distant  metropolitan  glories  in  the  ears 
of  the  exile  in  rustic  parts. 

Sighing  heavily,  Raikes  opened  the  letter,  in  simple  obedi- 
ence to  the  wishes  of  his  friend;  for  he  would  have  pre- 
ferred to  stand  contemplating  his  own  state  of  hopeless 
stagnation.  The  sceptical  expression  he  put  on  when  he 
had  read  the  letter  through  must  not  deceive  us.  John 
Raikes  had  dreamed  of  a  beneficent  eccentric  old  gentleman 
for  many  years :  one  against  whom,  haply,  he  had  bumped 
in  a  crowded  thoroughfare,  and  had  with  cordial  politeness 
begged  pardon  of ;  had  then  picked  up  his  walking-stick ; 
restored  it,  venturing  a  witty  remark ;  retired,  accidentally 
dropping  his  card-case ;  subsequently,  to  his  astonishment 
and  gratification,  receiving  a  pregnant  missive  from  that 
old  gentleman's  lawyer.  Or  it  so  happened  that  Mr.  Raikes 
met  the  old  gentleman  at  a  tavern,  and,  by  the  exercise  of 
a  signal  dexterity,  relieved  him  from  a  bone  in  his  throat, 
and  reluctantly  imparted  his  address  on  issuing  from  the 
said  tavern.  Or  perhaps  it  was  a  lonely  highway  where  the 
old  gentleman  walked,  and  John  Raikes  had  his  name  in 
the  papers  for  a  deed  of  heroism,  nor  was  man  ungrateful. 
Since  he  had  eaten  up  his  uncle,  this  old  gentleman  of  his 
dreams  walked  in  town  and  country  —  only,  and  alas !  Mr. 
Raikes  could  never  encounter  him  in  the  flesh.  The  muscles 
of  his  face,  therefore,  are  no  index  to  the  real  feelings  of 
the  youth  when  he  had  thoroughly  mastered  the  contents  of 
the  letter,  and  reflected  that  the  dream  of  his  luck  —  his 
angelic  old  gentleman  —  had  gone  and  wantonly  bestowed 
himself  upon  Evan  Harrington,  instead  of  the  expectant 
and  far  worthier  John  Raikes.  Worthier  inasmuch  as  he 
gave  him  credence  for  existing  long  ere  he  knew  of  him 
and  beheld  him  manifest. 

Raikes  retreated  to  the  vacant  parlour  of  the  Green 
Dragon,  and  there  Evan  found  him  staring  at  the  unfolded 
letter,  his  head  between  his  cramped  fists,  with  a  contrac- 
tion of  his  mouth.  Evan  was  troubled  by  what  he  had  seen 
up-stairs,  and  did  not  speak  till  Jack  looked  up  and  said, 
"  Oh,  there  you  are." 

«  Well,  what  do  you  think,  Jack  ?" 


IN  WHICH  EVAN  WRITES   HIMSELF   TAILOR      181 

"Yes  —  it's  all  right,"  Raikes  rejoined  in  most  matter-of- 
course  tone,  and  then  he  stepped  to  the  window,  and  puffed 
a  very  deep  breath  indeed,  and  glanced  from  the  straight 
line  of  the  street  to  the  heavens,  with  whom,  injured  as  he 
was,  he  felt  more  at  home  now  that  he  knew  them  capable 
of  miracles. 

"  Is  it  a  bad  joke  played  upon  me?  "  said  Evan. 

Raikes  upset  a  chair.  "It's  quite  childish.  You're 
made  a  gentleman  for  life,  and  you  ask  if  it's  a  joke  played 
upon  you !     It's  maddening !     There  —  there  goes  my  hat ! " 

With  a  vehement  kick,  Mr.  Raikes  despatched  his  ancient 
head-gear  to  the  other  end  of  the  room,  saying  that  he  must 
have  some  wine,  and  would ;  and  disdainful  was  his  look  at 
Evan,  when  the  latter  attempted  to  reason  him  into  economy. 
He  ordered  the  wine ;  drank  a  glass,  which  coloured  a  new 
mood  in  him  ;  and  affecting  a  practical  manner,  said : 

"  I  confess  I  have  been  a  little  hurt  with  you,  Harrington. 
You  left  me  stranded  on  the  desert  isle.  I  thought  myself 
abandoned.  I  thought  I  should  never  see  anything  but  the 
lengthening  of  an  endless  bill  on  my  landlady's  face  —  my 
sole  planet.  I  was  resigned  till  I  heard  my  friend  'to-lootl' 
this  morning.  He  kindled  recollection.  But,  this  is  a  tidy 
Port,  and  that  was  a  delectable  sort  of  young  lady  that  you 
were  riding  with  when  we  parted  last !  She  laughs  like  the 
true  metal.  I  suppose  you  know  it's  the  identical  damsel  I 
met  the  day  before,  and  owe  it  too  for  my  run  on  the  downs 

—  I've  a  compliment  ready  made  for  her." 

"You  think  that  letter  written  in  good  faith?"  said 
Evan. 

"  Look  here."  Mr.  Raikes  put  on  a  calmness.  "  You  got 
up  the  other  night,  and  said  you  were  a  tailor  —  a  devotee 
of  the  cabbage  and  the  goose.  Why  the  notion  didn't  strike 
me  is  extraordinary  —  I  ought  to  have  known  my  man. 
However,  the  old  gentleman  who  gave  the  supper  —  he's 
evidently  one  of  your  beastly  rich  old  ruffianly  republicans 

—  spent  part  of  his  time  in  America,  I  dare  say.     Put  two 
and  two  together." 

But  as  Harrington  desired  plain  prose,  Mr.  Raikes  tamed 
his  imagination  to  deliver  it.  He  pointed  distinctly  at  the 
old  gentleman  who  gave  the  supper  as  the  writer  of  the 
letter.     Evan,  in  return,  confided  to  him  his  history  and 


182  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

present  position,  and  Mr.  Raikes,  without  cooling  to  his 
fortunate  friend,  became  a  trifle  patronizing, 

"  You  said  your  father  —  I  think  I  remember  at  old  Cud- 
ford's  —  was  a  cavalry  officer,  a  bold  dragoon  ?  " 

"  I  did,"  replied  Evan.     "  I  told  a  lie." 

"  We  knew  it ;  but  we  feared  your  prowess,  Harrington." 

Then  they  talked  over  the  singular  letter  uninterruptedly, 
and  Evan,  weak  among  his  perplexities  of  position  and 
sentiment:  wanting  money  for  the  girl  up-stairs,  for  this 
distasteful  comrade's  bill  at  the  Green  Dragon,  and  for  his 
own  immediate  requirements,  and  with  the  bee  buzzing  of 
Rose  in  his  ears :  "  She  despises  you,"  consented  in  a  des- 
peration ultimately  to  sign  his  name  to  it,  and  despatch 
Jack  forthwith  to  Messrs.  Grist. 

"  You'll  find  it's  an  imposition,"  he  said,  beginning  less  to 
think  it  so,  now  that  his  name  was  put  to  the  hated  mon- 
strous thing ;  which  also  now  fell  to  pricking  at  curiosity. 
For  he  was  in  the  early  steps  of  his  career,  and  if  his  lady, 
holding  to  pride,  despised  him  —  as,  he  was  tortured  into 
the  hypocrisy  of  confessing,  she  justly  might, — why,  then, 
unless  he  was  the  sport  of  a  farceur,  here  seemed  a  gilding 
of  the  path  of  duty:  he  could  be  serviceable  to  friends. 
His  claim  on  fair  young  Rose's  love  had  grown  in  the  short 
while  so  prodigiously  asinine  that  it  was  a  minor  matter  to 
constitute  himself  an  old  eccentric's  puppet. 

"  No  more  an  imposition  than  it's  60  of  Virgil,"  quoth  the 
rejected  usher. 

"  It  smells  of  a  plot,"  said  Evan. 

"It's  the  best  joke  that  will  be  made  in  my  time,"  said 
Mr.  Raikes,  rubbing  his  hands. 

"  And  now  listen  to  your  luck,"  said  Evan ;  "  I  wish  mine 
were  like  it ! "  and  Jack  heard  of  Lady  Jocelyn's  offer. 
He  heard  also  that  the  young  lady  he  was  to  instruct  was 
an  heiress,  and  immediately  inspected  his  garments,  and 
showed  the  sacred  necessity  there  was  for  him  to  refit  in 
London,  under  the  hands  of  scientific  tailors.  Evan  wrote 
him  an  introduction  to  Mr.  Goren,  counted  out  the  contents 
of  his  purse  (which  Jack  had  reduced  in  his  study  of  the 
pastoral  game  of  skittles,  he  confessed),  and  calculated  in  a 
niggardly  way,  how  far  it  would  go  to  supply  the  fellow's 
wants ;  sighing,  as  he  did  it,  to  think  of  Jack  installed  at 


IN   WHICH   EVAN   WRITES   HIMSELF   TAILOR      183 

Beckley  Court,  while  Jack,  comparing  his  hick  with  Evan's, 
had  discovered  it  to  be  dismally  inferior. 

"  Oh,  confound  those  bellows  you  keep  blowing ! "  he  ex- 
claimed. "I  wish  to  be  decently  polite,  Harrington,  but 
you  annoy  me.  Excuse  me,  pray,  but  the  most  unexampled 
case  of  a  lucky  beggar  that  ever  was  known  —  and  to  hear 
him  panting  and  ready  to  whimper !  —  it's  outrageous. 
You've  only  to  put  up  your  name,  and  there  you  are  —  an 
independent  gentleman!  By  Jove!  this  isn't  such  a  dull 
world.  John  Raikes !  thou  livest  in  times.  I  feel  warm  in 
the  sun  of  your  prosperity,  Harrington.  Now  listen  to  me. 
Propound  thou  no  inquiries  anywhere  about  the  old  fellow 
who  gave  the  supper.  Humour  his  whim  —  he  won't  have 
it.  All  Eallowfield  is  paid  to  keep  him  secret ;  I  know  it 
for  a  fact.  I  plied  my  rustic  friends  every  night.  'Eat 
you  yer  victuals,  and  drink  yer  beer,  and  none  o'  yer  pryin's 
and  peerin's  among  we ! '  That's  my  rebuif  from  Farmer 
Broadmead.  And  that  old  boy  knows  more  than  he  will 
tell.  /  saw  his  cunning  old  eye  on-cock.  Be  silent,  Har- 
rington.    Let  discretion  be  the  seal  of  thy  luck." 

"You  can  reckon  on  my  silence,"  said  Evan.  "I  believe 
in  no  such  folly.     Men  don't  do  these  things." 

"  Ha ! "  went  Mr.  Raikes  contemptuously. 

Of  the  two  he  was  the  f oolisher  fellow ;  but  quacks  have 
cured  incomprehensible  maladies,  and  foolish  fellows  have 
an  instinct  for  eccentric  actions. 

Telling  Jack  to  finish  the  wine,  Evan  rose  to  go. 

"  Did  you  order  the  horse  to  be  fed  ?  " 

"  Did  I  order  the  feeding  of  the  horse  ?  "  said  Jack,  rising 
and  yawning.  "No,  I  forgot  him.  Who  can  think  of 
horses  now  ?  " 

"  Poor  brute  I "  muttered  Evan,  and  went  out  to  see  to 
him. 

The  ostler  had  required  no  instructions  to  give  the  horse 
a  feed  of  corn.  Evan  mounted,  and  rode  out  of  the  yard  to 
where  Jack  was  standing,  bare-headed,  in  his  old  posture 
against  the  pillar,  of  which  the  shade  had  rounded,  and  the 
evening  sun  shone  full  on  him  over  a  black  cloud.  He  now 
looked  calmly  gay. 

"I'm  laughing  at  the  agricultural  Broadmead!"  he  said: 

None  o'  yer  pryin's  and  peerin's ! '      He  thought  my 


(I  ( 


184  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

powers  of  amusing  prodigious.  '  Dang  'un,  he  do  maak  a 
chap  laugh !  *  Well,  Harrington,  that  sort  of  homage  isn't 
much,  I  admit." 

Raikes  pursued:  "There's  something  in  a  pastoral  life, 
after  all." 

"  Pastoral ! "  muttered  Evan.  "  I  was  speaking  of  you  at 
Beckley,  and  hope  when  you're  there  you  won't  make  me 
regret  my  introduction  of  you.  Keep  your  mind  on  old  Cud- 
ford's  mutton-bone." 

"  I  perfectly  understood  you,"  said  Jack.  "  I'm  presumed 
to  be  in  luck.  Ingratitude  is  not  my  fault  —  I'm  afraid 
ambition  is ! " 

"  Console  yourself  with  it  or  what  you  can  get  till  we 
meet  —  here  or  in  London.  But  the  Dragon  shall  be  the 
address  for  both  of  us,"  Evan  said,  and  nodded,  trotting  off. 


CHAPTER  XVIII 

IN  WHICH  EVAN   CALLS   HIMSELF   GENTLEMAN 

The  young  cavalier  perused  that  letter  again  in  memory. 
Genuine,  or  a  joke  of  the  enemy,  it  spoke  wakening  facts  to 
him.  He  leapt  from  the  spell  Rose  had  encircled  him 
with.  Strange  that  he  should  have  rushed  into  his  dream 
with  eyes  open !  But  he  was  fully  awake  now.  He  would 
speak  his  last  farewell  to  her,  and  so  end  the  earthly  happi- 
ness he  paid  for  in  deep  humiliation,  and  depart  into  that 
grey  cold  mist  where  his  duty  lay.  It  is  thus  that  young 
men  occasionally  design  to  burst  from  the  circle  of  the  pas- 
sions, and  think  that  they  have  done  it,  when  indeed  they 
are  but  making  the  circle  more  swiftly.  Here  was  Evan 
mouthing  his  farewell  to  Rose,  using  phrases  so  profoundly 
humble,  that  a  listener  would  have  taken  them  for  bitter 
irony.  He  said  adieu  to  her,  —  pronouncing  it  with  a  pathos 
to  melt  scornful  princesses.  He  tried  to  be  honest,  and  was 
as  much  so  as  his  disease  permitted. 

The  black  cloud  had  swallowed  the  sun ;  and  turning  off  to 
the  short  cut  across  the  downs,  Evan  soon  rode  between  the 


EVAN  CALLS   HIMSELF   GENTLEMAN  185 

wind  and  the  storm.  He  could  see  the  heavy  burden  breast- 
ing the  beacon-point,  round  which  curled  leaden  arms,  and  a 
low  internal  growl  saluted  him  advancing.  The  horse  laid 
back  his  ears.  A  last  gust  from  the  opposing  quarter  shook 
the  furzes  and  the  clumps  of  long  pale  grass,  and  straight  fell 
columns  of  rattling  white  rain,  and  in  a  minute  he  was  closed 
in  by  a  hissing  ring.  Men  thus  pelted  abandon  without  pro- 
test the  hope  of  retaining  a  dry  particle  of  clothing  on  their 
persons.  Completely  drenched,  the  track  lost,  everything  in 
dense  gloom  beyond  the  white  enclosure  that  moved  with 
him,  Evan  flung  the  reins  to  the  horse,  and  curiously  watched 
him  footing  on ;  for  physical  discomfort  balanced  his  mental 
perturbation,  and  he  who  had  just  been  chafing  was  now 
quite  calm. 

Was  that  a  shepherd  crouched  under  the  thorn?  The 
place  betokened  a  shepherd,  but  it  really  looked  like  a  bundle 
of  the  opposite  sex ;  and  it  proved  to  be  a  woman  gathered 
up  with  her  gown  over  her  head.  Apparently,  Mr.  Evan 
Harrington  was  destined  for  these  encounters.  The  thunder 
rolled  as  he  stopped  by  her  side  and  called  out  to  her.  She 
heard  him,  for  she  made  a  movement,  but  without  sufficiently 
disengaging  her  head  of  its  covering  to  show  him  a  part  of 
her  face. 

Bellowing  against  the  thunder,  Evan  bade  her  throw  back 
her  garment,  and  stand  and  give  him  up  her  arms,  that 
he  might  lift  her  on  the  horse  behind  him. 

There  came  a  muffled  answer,  on  a  big  sob,  as  it  seemed. 
And  as  if  heaven  paused  to  hear,  the  storm  was  mute. 

Could  he  have  heard  correctly  ?  The  words  he  fancied  he 
had  heard  sobbed  were : 

"  Best  bonnet." 

The  elements  hereupon  crashed  deep  and  long  from  end  to 
end,  like  a  table  of  Titans  passing  a  jest. 

Rain-drops,  hard  as  hail,  were  spattering  a  pool  on  her 
head.  Evan  stooped  his  shoulder,  seized  the  soaked  garment, 
and  pulled  it  back,  revealing  the  features  of  Polly  Wheedle, 
and  the  splendid  bonnet  in  ruins  —  all  limp  and  stained. 

Polly  blinked  at  him  penitentially. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Harrington ;  oh,  ain't  I  punished ! "  she  whinr 
pered. 

In  truth,  the  maid  resembled  a  well-watered  poppy. 


186  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Evan  told  her  to  stand  up  close  to  the  horse,  and  Polly 
stood  up  close,  looking  like  a  creature  that  expected  a  whip- 
ping. She  was  suffering,  poor  thing,  from  that  abject  sense 
of  the  lack  of  a  circumference,  which  takes  the  pride  out  of 
women  more  than  anything.  Note,  that  in  all  material 
fashions,  as  in  all  moral  observances,  women  demand  a  cir- 
cumference, and  enlarge  it  more  and  more  as  civilization 
advances.  Respect  the  mighty  instinct,  however  mysterious 
it  seem. 

"  Oh,  Mr.  Harrington,  don't  laugh  at  me,"  said  Polly. 

Evan  assured  her  that  he  was  seriously  examining  her 
bonnet. 

*'  It's  the  bonnet  of  a  draggletail,"  said  Polly,  giving  up 
her  arms,  and  biting  her  under  lip  for  the  lift. 

With  some  display  of  strength,  Evan  got  the  lean  creature 
up  behind  him,  and  Polly  settled  there,  and  squeezed  him 
tightly  with  her  arms,  excusing  the  liberty  she  took. 

They  mounted  the  beacon,  and  rode  along  the  ridge  whence 
the  West  became  visible,  and  a  washed  edge  of  red  over 
Beckley  church  spire  and  the  woods  of  Beckley  Court.. 

"  And  what  have  you  been  doing  to  be  punished  ?  What 
brought  you  here  ?  "  said  Evan. 

"  Somebody  drove  me  to  Eallowfield  to  see  my  poor  sister 
Susan,"  returned  Polly,  half  crying. 

"  Well,  did  he  bring  you  here  and  leave  you  ?  " 

"  No :  he  wasn't  true  to  his  appointment  the  moment  I 
wanted  to  go  back ;  and  I,  to  pay  him  out,  I  determined  I'd 
walk  it  where  he  sJiouldn't  overtake  me,  and  on  came  the 
storm  ....     And  my  gown  spoilt,  and  such  a  bonnet ! " 

"  Who  was  the  somebody  ?  " 

"  He's  a  Mr.  Nicholas  Frim,  sir." 

"Mr.  Nicholas  Frim  will  be  very  unhappy,  I  should 
think." 

"  Yes,  that's  one  comfort,"  said  Polly  ruefully,  drying  her 
eyes. 

Closely  surrounding  a  young  man  as  a  young  woman 
must  be  when  both  are  on  the  same  horse,  they,  as  a  rule, 
talk  confidentially  together  in  a  very  short  time.  His  "  Are 
you  cold  ?  "  when  Polly  shivered,  and  her  "  Oh,  no ;  not  very," 
and  a  slight  screwing  of  her  body  up  to  him,  as  she  spoke, 
to  assure  him  and  herself  of  it,  soon  made  them  intimate. 


EVAN   CALLS   HIMSELF   GENTLEMAN  187 

"I  think  Mr.  Nicholas  Frim  mustn't  see  us  riding  into 
Beckley,"  said  Evan. 

"  Oh,  my  gracious  !  Ought  I  to  get  down,  sir  ?  "  Polly 
made  no  move,  hovt^ever. 

"  Is  he  jealous  ?  " 

"  Only  when  I  make  him,  he  is." 

"  That's  very  naughty  of  you." 

"  Yes,  I  know  it  is  —  all  the  Wheedles  are.  Mother  says, 
we  never  go  right  till  we've  once  got  in  a  pickle." 

"  You  ought  to  go  right  from  this  hour,"  said  Evan. 

"  It's  'dizenzy  does  it,"  said  Polly.  "  And  then  we're 
ashamed  to  show  it.  My  poor  Susan  went  to  stay  with  her 
aunt  at  Bodley,  and  then  at  our  cousin's  at  Hillford,  and  then 
she  was  off  to  Lymport  to  drown  her  poor  self,  I  do  believe, 
when  you  met  her.  And  all  because  we  can't  bear  to  be  seen 
when  we're  in  any  of  our  pickles,  I  wish  you  wouldn't  look 
at  me,  Mr.  Harrington." 

"  You  look  very  pretty." 

"It's  quite  impossible  I  can  now,"  said  Polly,  with  a 
wretched  effort  to  spread  open  her  collar.  "  I  can  see  myself 
a  fright,  like  my  Miss  Rose  did,  making  a  face  in  the  look- 
ing-glass when  I  was  undressing  her  last  night.  But,  do  you 
know,  I  would  much  rather  Nicholas  saw  us  than  somebody." 

"Who's  that?" 

"  Miss  Bonner.     She'd  never  forgive  me." 

"  Is  she  so  strict  ?  " 

"She  only  uses  servants  for  spies,"  said  Polly.  "And 
since  my  Miss  Rose  come  —  though  I'm  up  a  step  —  I'm  still 
a  servant,  and  Miss  Bonner'd  be  in  a  fury  to  see  my  —  though 
I'm  sure  we're  quite  respectable,  Mr.  Harrington  —  my  hav- 
ing hold  of  you  as  I'm  obliged  to,  and  can't  help  myself. 
But  she'd  say  I  ought  to  tumble  off  rather  than  touch  her 
engaged  with  a  little  finger." 

"  Her  engaged  ?  "  cried  Evan. 

"  Ain't  you,  sir  ?  "  quoth  Polly.  "  I  understand  you  were 
going  to  be,  from  my  lady,  the  Countess.  We  all  think  so 
at  Beckley.  Why,  look  how  Miss  Bonner  looks  at  you,  and 
she's  sure  to  have  plenty  of  money." 

This  was  Polly's  innocent  way  of  bringing  out  a  word 
about  her  own  young  mistress. 

Evan  controlled  any  denial  of  his  pretensions  to  the  hand 


188  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

of  Miss  Bonner.  He  said :  "  Is  it  your  mistress's  habit  to 
make  faces  in  the  looking-glass  ?  " 

"  I'll  tell  you  how  it  happened,"  said  Polly.  "  But  I'm 
afraid  I'm  in  your  way,  sir.     Shall  I  get  off  now  ?  " 

"Not  by  any  means,"  said  Evan.  "Make  your  arm 
tighter." 

"  Will  that  do  ?  "  asked  Polly. 

Evan  looked  round  and  met  her  appealing  face,  over  which 
the  damp  locks  of  hair  straggled.  The  maid  was  fair :  it 
was  fortunate  that  he  was  thinking  of  the  mistress. 

"Speak  on,"  said  Evan,  but  Polly  put  the  question 
whether  her  face  did  not  want  washing,  and  so  earnestly  that 
he  had  to  regard  it  again,  and  compromised  the  case  by 
saying  that  it  wanted  kissing  by  Nicholas  Frim,  which  set 
Polly's  lips  in  a  pout. 

"  I'm  sure  it  wants  kissing  by  nobody,"  she  said,  adding 
with  a  spasm  of  passion :  "  Oh !  I  know  the  colours  of  my 
bonnet  are  all  smeared  over  it,  and  I'm  a  dreadful  fright." 

Evan  failed  to  adopt  the  proper  measures  to  make  Miss 
Wheedle's  mind  easy  with  regard  to  her  appearance,  and 
she  commenced  her  story  rather  languidly. 

"  My  Miss  Rose  —  what  was  it  I  was  going  to  tell  ?  Oh ! 
—  my  Miss  Rose.  You  must  know,  Mr.  Harrington,  she's 
very  fond  of  managing;  I  can  see  that,  though  I  haven't 
known  her  long  before  she  gave  up  short  frocks ;  and  she 
said  to  Mr.  Laxley,  who's  going  to  marry  her  some  day, 
*  She  didn't  like  my  lady,  the  Countess,  taking  Mr.  Harry  to 
herself  like  that.'  I  can't  abear  to  speak  his  name,  but  I 
suppose  he's  not  a  bit  more  selfish  than  the  rest  of  men. 
So  Mr.  Laxley  said  —  just  like  the  jealousy  of  men  —  they 
needn't  talk  of  women  !  I'm  sure  nobody  can  tell  what  we 
have  to  put  up  with.  We  mustn't  look  out  of  this  eye,  or 
out  of  the  other,  but  they're  up  and  —  oh,  dear  me !  there's 
such  a  to-do  as  never  was  known  —  all  for  nothing !  —  " 

"  My  good  girl ! "  said  Evan,  recalling  her  to  the  subject- 
matter  with  all  the  patience  he  could  command. 

"Where  was  I?"  Polly  travelled  meditatively  back. 
"  I  do  feel  a  little  cold." 

"  Come  closer,"  said  Evan.  "  Take  this  handkerchief  — 
it's  the  only  dry  thing  I  have  —  cover  your  chest  with  it." 

"The  shoulders  feel  wettest,"  Polly  replied,  "and  they 


EVAN   CALLS   HIMSELF   GENTLEMAN  189 

can't  be  helped.  I'll  tie  it  round  my  neck,  if  you'll  stop, 
sir.     There,  now  I'm  warmer." 

To  show  how  concisely  women  can  narrate  when  they 
feel  warmer,  Polly  started  off: 

"  So,  you  know,  Mr.  Harrington,  Mr.  Laxley  said  —  he 
said  to  Miss  Rose,  '  You  have  taken  her  brother,  and  she 
has  taken  yours.'  And  Miss  Rose  said,  *  That  was  her  own 
business,  and  nobody  else's.'  And  Mr.  Laxley  said,  *He 
was  glad  she  thought  it  a  fair  exchange.'  /  heard  it  all ! 
And  then  Miss  Rose  said  —  for  she  can  be  in  a  passion  about 
some  things  —  'What  do  you  mean,  Ferdinand,'  was  her 
words,  'I  insist  upon  your  speaking  out.'  Miss  Rose  always 
will  call  gentlemen  by  their  Christian  names  when  she  likes 
them ;  that's  always  a  sign  with  her.  And  he  wouldn't  tell 
her.  And  Miss  Rose  got  awful  angry,  and  she's  clever,  is 
my  Miss  Rose,  for  what  does  she  do,  Mr.  Harrington,  but 
begins  praising  you  up  so  that  she  knew  it  must  make  him 
mad,  only  because  men  can't  abide  praise  of  another  man 
when  it's  a  woman  that  says  it  —  meaning,  young  lady ;  for 
my  Miss  Rose  has  my  respect,  however  familiar  she  lets  her- 
self be  to  us  that  she  likes.  The  others  may  go  and  drown 
themselves.     Are  you  took  ill,  sir  ?  " 

"No,"  said  Evan,  "I  was  only  breathing." 

"The  doctors  say  it's  bad  to  take  such  long  breaths," 
remarked  artless  Polly.  "  Perhaps  my  arms  are  pressing 
you  ?  " 

"It's  the  best  thing  they  can  do,"  murmured  Evan, 
dejectedly. 

"  What,  sir  ?  " 

"  Go  and  drown  themselves ! " 

Polly  screwed  her  lips,  as  if  she  had  a  pin  between  them, 
and  continued : 

"  Miss  Rose  was  quite  sensible  when  she  praised  you  as 
her  friend;  she  meant  it — every  word;  and  then  sudden 
what  does  Mr.  Laxley  do,  but  say  you  was  something  else 
besides  friend  —  worse  or  better ;  and  she  was  silent,  which 
made  him  savage,  I  could  hear  Isy  his  voice.  And  he  said, 
Mr.  Harrington,  *  You  meant  it  if  she  did  not.'  *  No,'  says 
she, '  I  know  better ;  he's  as  honest  as  the  day.'  Out  he  flew 
and  said  such  things :  he  said,  Mr.  Harrington,  you  wasn't 
fit  to  be  Miss  Rose's  friend,  even.     Then  she  said,  she  heard 


190  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

he  had  told  lies  about  you  to  her  Mama,  and  her  aunts;  but 
her  Mama,  my  lady,  laughed  at  him,  and  she  at  her  aunts. 
Then  he  said  you  —  oh,  abominable  of  him ! " 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  "  asked  Evan,  waking  up. 

"Why,  if  I  were  to  tell  my  Miss  Rose  some  things  of 
him,"  Polly  went  on,  "  she'd  never  so  much  as  speak  to  him 
another  instant." 

"  What  did  he  say  ?  "  Evan  repeated. 

"  I  hate  him  ! "  cried  Polly.  "  It's  Mr.  Laxley  that  mis- 
leads Mr.  Harry,  who  has  got  his  good  nature,  and  means 
no  more  harm  than  he  can  help.  Oh,  I  didn't  hear  what  he 
said  of  you,  sir.  Only  I  know  it  was  abominable,  because 
Miss  Rose  was  so  vexed,  and  you  were  her  dearest  friend." 

"  Well,  and  about  the  looking-glass  ?  " 

"  That  was  at  night,  Mr.  Harrington,  when  I  was  undress- 
ing of  her.  Miss  Rose  has  a  beautiful  figure,  and  no  need 
of  lacing.     But  I'd  better  get  down  now." 

"  Eor  heaven's  sake,  stay  where  you  are." 

"  I  tell  her  she  stands  as  if  she'd  been  drilled  for  a  soldier," 
PoUy  quietly  continued.  "  You're  squeezing  my  arm  with 
your  elbow,  Mr.  Harrington.  It  didn't  hurt  me.  So  when 
I  had  her  nearly  undressed,  we  were  talking  about  this  and 
that,  and  you  amongst  'em  —  and  I,  you  know,  rather  like 
you,  sir,  if  you'll  not  think  me  too  bold  —  she  started  off  by 
asking  me  what  was  the  nickname  people  gave  to  tailors. 
It  was  one  of  her  whims.  I  told  her  they  were  called  snips 
—  I'm  off!" 

Polly  gave  a  shriek.  The  horse  had  reared  as  if  violently 
stung. 

"  Go  on,"  said  Evan.     "  Hold  hard,  and  go  on." 

"  Snips  —  Oh !  and  I  told  her  they  were  called  snips.  It 
is  a  word  that  seems  to  make  you  hate  the  idea.  I  shouldn't 
like  to  hear  my  intended  called  snip.  Oh,  he's  going  to 
gallop ! " 

And  off  in  a  gallop  Polly  was  borne. 

"  Well,"  said  Evan,  "  well  ?  " 

"  I  can't,  Mr.  Harrington ;  I  have  to  press  you  so,"  cried 
Polly ;  "  and  I'm  bounced  so  —  I  shall  bite  my  tongue." 

After  a  sharp  stretch,  the  horse  fell  to  a  canter,  and  then 
trotted  slowly,  and  allowed  Polly  to  finish. 

"  So  Miss  Rose  was  standing  sideways  to  the  glass,  and 


EVAN   CALLS   HIMSELF   GENTLEMAN  191 

she  turned  her  neck,  and  just  as  I'd  said  '  snip,'  I  saw  her 
saying  it  in  the  glass ;  and  you  never  saw  anything  so  funny. 
It  was  enough  to  make  anybody  laugh ;  but  Miss  Rose,  she 
seemed  as  if  she  couldn't  forget  how  ugly  it  had  made  her 
look.  She  covered  her  face  with  her  hands,  and  she  shud- 
dered !  It  is  a  word  —  snip !  that  makes  you  seem  to  de- 
spise yourself." 

Beckley  was  now  in  sight  from  the  edge  of  the  downs, 
lying  in  its  foliage  dark  under  the  grey  sky  backed  by  mo- 
tionless mounds  of  vapour.  Miss  Wheedle  to  her  great  sur- 
prise was  suddenly  though  safely  dropped ;  and  on  her 
return  to  the  ground  the  damsel  instantly  '  knew  her  place,* 
and  curtseyed  becoming  gratitude  for  his  kindness ;  but  he 
was  off  in  a  fiery  gallop,  the  gall  of  Demogorgon  in  his  soul. 

What's  that  the  leaves  of  the  proud  old  trees  of  Beckley 
Court  hiss  as  he  sweeps  beneath  them  ?  What  has  suddenly 
cut  him  short  ?  Is  he  diminished  in  stature  ?  Are  the 
lackeys  sneering  ?  The  storm  that  has  passed  has  marvel- 
lously chilled  the  air. 

His  sister,  the  Countess,  once  explained  to  him  what  Demo- 
gorgon was,  in  the  sensation  it  entailed.  "  You  are  skinned 
alive  !  "  said  the  Countess.  Evan  was  skinned  alive.  Fly, 
wretched  young  man !  Summon  your  pride,  and  fly !  Fly, 
noble  youth,  for  whom  storms  specially  travel  to  tell  you 
that  your  mistress  makes  faces  in  the  looking-glass!  Fly 
where  human  lips  and  noses  are  not  scornfully  distorted, 
and  get  thee  a  new  skin,  and  grow  and  attain  to  thy  natural 
height  in  a  more  genial  sphere !  You,  ladies  and  gentlemen, 
who  may  have  had  a  matter  to  conceal,  and  find  that  it  is 
oozing  out :  you,  whose  skeleton  is  seen  stalking  beside  you, 
you  know  what  it  is  to  be  breathed  upon:  you,  too,  are 
skinned  alive:  but  this  miserable  youth  is  not  only  flayed, 
he  is  doomed  calmly  to  contemplate  the  hideous  image  of 
himself  burning  on  the  face  of  her  he  loves ;  making  beauty 
ghastly.  In  vain  —  for  he  is  two  hours  behind  the  dinner- 
bell  —  Mr.  Burley,  the  butler,  bows  and  offers  him  viands  and 
wine.  How  can  he  eat,  with  the  phantom  of  Rose  there,  cov- 
ering her  head,  shuddering,  loathing  him  ?  But  he  must  ap- 
pear in  company :  he  has  a  coat,  if  he  has  not  a  skin.  Let 
him  button  it,  and  march  boldly.  Our  comedies  are  fre- 
quently youth's  tragedies.     We  will  smile  reservedly  as  we 


192  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

mark  Mr.  Evan  Harrington  step  into  the  midst  of  tlie  fair 
society  of  the  drawing-room.  Rose  is  at  the  piano.  Near  her 
reclines  the  Countess  de  Saldar,  fanning  the  languors  from 
her  cheeks,  with  a  word  for  the  diplomatist  on  one  side,  a 
whisper  for  Sir  John  Loring  on  the  other,  and  a  very  quiet 
pair  of  eyes  for  everybody.  Providence,  she  is  sure,  is  keep- 
ing watch  to  shield  her  sensitive  cuticle ;  and  she  is  besides 
exquisitely  happy,  albeit  outwardly  composed :  for,  in  the 
room  sits  his  Grace  the  Duke  of  Belfield,  newly  arrived.  He 
is  talking  to  her  sister,  Mrs.  Strike,  masked  by  Miss  Current. 
The  wife  of  the  Major  has  come  this  afternoon,  and  Andrew 
Cogglesby,  who  brought  her,  chats  with  Lady  Jocelyn  like 
an  old  acquaintance. 

Evan  shakes  the  hands  of  his  relatives.  Who  shall  turn 
over  the  leaves  of  the  fair  singer's  music-book  ?  The  young 
men  are  in  the  billiard-room :  Drummond  is  engaged  in  con- 
verse with  a  lovely  person  with  Giorgione  hair,  which  the 
Countess  intensely  admires,  and  asks  the  diplomatist  whether 
he  can  see  a  soupQon  of  red  in  it.  The  diplomatist's  taste  is 
for  dark  beauties :  the  Countess  is  dark. 

Evan  must  do  duty  by  Rose.  And  now  occurred  a  phenom- 
enon in  him.  Instead  of  shunning  her,  as  he  had  rejoiced 
in  doing  after  the  Jocasta  scene,  ere  she  had  wounded  him, 
he  had  a  curious  desire  to  compare  her  with  the  phantom 
that  had  dispossessed  her  in  his  fancy.  Unconsciously  when 
he  saw  her,  he  transferred  the  shame  that  devoured  him, 
from  him  to  her,  and  gazed  coldly  at  the  face  that  could 
twist  to  that  despicable  contortion. 

He  was  in  love,  and  subtle  love  will  not  be  shamed  and 
smothered.  Love  sits,  we  must  remember,  mostly  in  two 
hearts  at  the  same  time,  and  the  one  that  is  first  stirred  by 
any  of  the  passions  to  wakefulness,  may  know  more  of  the 
other  than  its  owner.  Why  had  Rose  covered  her  head  and 
shuddered  ?  Would  the  girl  feel  that  for  a  friend  ?  If  his 
pride  suffered,  love  was  not  so  downcast ;  but  to  avenge  him 
for  the  cold  she  had  cast  on  him,  it  could  be  critical,  and 
Evan  made  his  bearing  to  her  a  blank. 

This  somehow  favoured  him  with  Rose.  Sheep's  eyes  are 
a  dainty  dish  for  little  maids,  and  we  know  how  largely  they 
indulge  in  it ;  but  when  they  are  just  a  bit  doubtful  of  the 
quality  of  the  sheep,  let  the  good  animal  shut  his  lids  forth- 


EVAN  CALLS   HIMSELF   GENTLEMAN  193 

with,  for  a  time.  Had  she  not  been  a  little  unkind  to  him 
in  the  morning  ?  She  had  since  tried  to  help  him,  and  that 
had  appeased  her  conscience,  for  in  truth  he  was  a  good 
young  man.  Those  very  words  she  mentally  pronounced, 
while  he  was  thinking,  "  Would  she  feel  it  for  a  friend  ?  " 
We  dare  but  guess  at  the  puzzle  young  women  present  now 
and  then,  but  I  should  say  that  Evan  was  nearer  the  mark, 
and  that  the  '  good  young  man '  was  a  sop  she  threw  to  that 
within  her  which  wanted  quieting,  and  was  thereby  passably 
quieted.  Perhaps  the  good  young  man  is  offended  ?  Let  us 
assure  him  of  our  disinterested  graciousness. 

"  Is  your  friend  coming  ?  "  she  asked,  and  to  his  reply 
said,  "  I'm  glad ; "  and  pitched  upon  a  new  song  —  one  that, 
by  hazard,  did  not  demand  his  attentions,  and  he  surveyed 
the  company  to  find  a  vacant  seat  with  a  neighbour.  Juley 
Bonner  was  curled  up  on  the  sofa,  looking  like  a  damsel  who 
has  the  lost  third  volume  of  an  exciting  novel,  and  is  divining 
the  climax.  He  chose  to  avoid  Miss  Bonner.  Drummond 
was  leaving  the  side  of  the  Giorgione  lady.  Evan  passed 
leisurely,  and  Drummond  said : 

"  You  know  Mrs.  Evremonde  ?     Let  me  introduce  you." 

He  was  soon  in  conversation  with  the  glorious-haired 
dame. 

"  Excellently  done,  my  brother ! "  thinks  the  Countess  de 
Saldar. 

Rose  sees  the  matter  coolly.  What  is  it  to  her  ?  But  she 
has  finished  with  song.  Jenny  takes  her  place  at  the  piano ; 
and,  as  Rose  does  not  care  for  instrumental  music,  she  natu- 
rally talks  and  laughs  with  Drummond,  and  Jenny  does  not 
altogether  "like  it,  even  though  she  is  not  playing  to  the  ear 
of  William  Harvey,  for  whom  billiards  have  such  attractions ; 
but,  at  the  close  of  the  performance,  Rose  is  quiet  enough, 
and  the  Countess  observes  her  sitting,  alone,  pulling  the 
petals  of  a  flower  in  her  lap,  on  which  her  eyes  are  fixed. 
Is  the  doe  wounded  ?  The  damsel  of  the  disinterested  gra- 
ciousness is  assuredly  restless.  She  starts  up  and  goes  out 
upon  the  balcony  to  breathe  the  night-air,  mayhap  regard 
the  moon,  and  no  one  follows  her. 

Had  Rose  been  guiltless  of  offence,  Evan  might  have  left 
Beckley  Court  the  next  day,  to  cherish  his  outraged  self-love. 
Love  of  woman  is  strongly  distinguished  from  pure  egoism 


194  EVAN  HABRINGTON 

when  it  has  got  a  wound :  for  it  will  not  go  into  a  corner 
complaining,  it  will  fight  its  duel  on  the  field  or  die.  Did 
the  young  lady  know  his  origin,  and  scorn  him  ?  He  re- 
solved to  stay  and  teach  her  that  the  presumption  she  had 
imputed  to  him  was  her  own  mistake.  And  from  this  Evan 
graduated  naturally  enough  the  finer  stages  of  self-deception 
downward. 

A  lover  must  have  his  delusions,  just  as  a  man  must  have 
a  skin.  But  here  was  another  singular  change  in  Evan. 
After  his  ale-prompted  speech  in  Fallowfield,  he  was  nerved 
to  face  the  truth  in  the  eyes  of  all  save  Eose.  Now  that  the 
truth  had  enmeshed  his  beloved,  he  turned  to  battle  with  it ; 
he  was  prepared  to  deny  it  at  any  moment ;  his  burnt  flesh 
was  as  sensitive  as  the  Countess's.  Let  Eose  accuse  him, 
and  he  would  say,  "  This  is  true.  Miss  Jocelyn  —  what 
then  ?  "  and  behold  Eose  confused  and  dumb !  Let  not  an- 
other dare  suspect  it.  For  the  fire  that  had  scorched  him 
was  in  some  sort  healing,  though  horribly  painful ;  but  con- 
tact with  the  general  air  was  not  to  be  endured  —  was  death ! 
This,  I  believe,  is  common  in  cases  of  injury  by  fire. 

So  it  befell  that  Evan,  meeting  Eose  the  next  morning, 
was  playfully  asked  by  her  what  choice  he  had  made  be- 
tween the  white  and  the  red ;  and  he,  dropping  on  her  the 
shallow  eyes  of  a  conventional  smile,  replied,  that  unable 
to  decide  and  form  a  choice,  he  had  thrown  both  away ;  at 
which  Miss  Jocelyn  gave  him  a  look  in  the  centre  of  his 
brows,  let  her  head  slightly  droop,  and  walked  off. 

"  She  can  look  serious  as  well  as  grimace,"  was  all  that 
Evan  allowed  himself  to  think,  and  he  strolled  out  on  the 
lawn  with  the  careless  serenity  of  lovers  when  they  fancy 
themselves  heart-free. 

Eose,  whipping  the  piano  in  the  drawing-room,  could  see 
him  go  to  sit  by  Mrs.  Evremonde,  till  they  were  joined  by 
Drummond,  when  he  left  her  and  walked  with  Harry,  and 
apparently  shadowed  the  young  gentleman's  unreflective 
face ;  after  which  Harry  was  drawn  away  by  the  appear- 
ance of  that  dark  star,  the  Countess  de  Saldar,  whom  Eose 
was  beginning  to  detest.  Jenny  glided  by  William  Harvey's 
side,  far  off.  Eose,  the  young  Queen  of  Friendship,  was  left 
deserted  on  her  music-stool  for  a  throne,  and  when  she 
ceased  to  hammer  the  notes  she  was  insulted  by  a  voice  that 


EVAN  CALLS   HIMSELF   GENTLEMAN  195 

cried  from  below :  "  Go  on,  Rose,  it's  nice  in  the  sun  to  hear 
you,"  causing  her  to  close  her  performances  and  the  instru- 
ment vigorously. 

Rose  was  much  behind  her  age :  she  could  not  tell  what 
was  the  matter  with  her.  In  these  little  torments  young 
people  have  to  pass  through  they  gain  a  rapid  maturity. 
Let  a  girl  talk  with  her  own  heart  an  hour,  and  she  is  almost 
a  woman.  Rose  came  down-stairs  dressed  for  riding.  Lax- 
ley  was  doing  her  the  service  of  smoking  one  of  her  rose- 
trees.  Evan  stood  disengaged,  prepared  for  her  summons. 
She  did  not  notice  him,  but  beckoned  to  Laxley  drooping 
over  a  bud,  while  the  curled  smoke  floated  from  his  lips. 

"The  very  gracefullest  of  chimney-pots  —  is  he  not?" 
says  the  Countess  to  Harry,  whose  immense  guffaw  fails  not 
to  apprise  Laxley  that  something  has  been  said  of  him,  for 
in  his  dim  state  of  consciousness  absence  of  the  power  of 
retort  is  the  prominent  feature,  and  when  he  has  the  sus- 
picion of  malicious  tongues  at  their  work,  all  he  can  do  is 
silently  to  resent  it.  Probably  this  explains  his  conduct  to 
Evan.  Some  youths  have  an  acute  memory  for  things  that 
have  shut  their  mouths. 

The  Countess  observed  to  Harry  that  his  dear  friend  Mr. 
Laxley  appeared,  by  the  cast  of  his  face,  to  be  biting  a  sour 
apple. 

"Grapes,  you  mean?"  laughed  Harry.  "Never  mind! 
she'll  bite  at  him  when  he  comes  in  for  the  title." 

"  Anything  crude  will  do,"  rejoined  the  Countess.  "  Why 
are  you  not  courting  Mrs.  Evremonde,  naughty  Don  ?  " 

"Oh!  she's  occupied  —  castle's  in  possession.  Be- 
sides — ! "  and  Harry  tried  hard  to  look  sly. 

"  Come  and  tell  me  about  her,"  said  the  Countess. 

Rose,  Laxley,  and  Evan  were  standing  close  together. 

"  You  really  are  going  alone.  Rose  ?  "  said  Laxley. 

"  Didn't  I  say  so  ?  —  unless  you  wish  to  join  us  ?  "  She 
turned  upon  Evan. 

"  I  am  at  your  disposal,"  said  Evan. 

Rose  nodded  briefly. 

"  I  think  I'll  smoke  the  trees,"  said  Laxley,  perceptibly 
huffing. 

"  You  won't  come,  Ferdinand  ?  " 

"  I  only  offered  to  fill  up  the  gap.  One  does  as  well  as 
another." 


196  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

Rose  flicked  her  whip,  and  then  declared  she  would  not 
ride  at  all,  and,  gathering  up  her  skirts,  hurried  back  to  the 
house. 

As  Laxley  turned  away,  Evan  stood  before  him. 

The  unhappy  fellow  was  precipitated  by  the  devil  of  his 
false  position. 

"  I  think  one  of  us  two  must  quit  the  field ;  if  I  go  I  will 
wait  for  you,"  he  said. 

"  Oh !  I  understand,"  said  Laxley.  "  But  if  it's  what  I 
suppose  you  to  mean,  I  must  decline." 

"  I  beg  to  know  your  grounds." 

"  You  have  tied  my  hands." 

"  You  would  escape  under  cover  of  superior  station  ?  " 

"Escape !  You  have  only  to  unsay — tell  me  you  have  a 
right  to  demand  it." 

The  battle  of  the  sophist  victorious  within  him  was  done 
in  a  flash,  as  Evan  measured  his  qualities  beside  this  young 
man's,  and  without  a  sense  of  lying,  said :  "  I  have." 

He  spoke  firmly.  He  looked  the  thing  he  called  himself 
now.  The  Countess,  too,  was  a  dazzling  shield  to  her 
brother.  The  beautiful  Mrs.  Strike  was  a  completer  vindi- 
cator of  him ;  though  he  had  queer  associates,  and  talked 
oddly  of  his  family  that  night  in  Fallowfield. 

"  Very  well,  sir ;  I  admit  you  manage  to  annoy  me,"  said 
Laxley.  "  I  can  give  you  a  lesson  as  well  as  another,  if  you 
want  it." 

Presently  the  two  youths  were  seen  bowing  in  the  stiff, 
curt  style  of  those  cavaliers  who  defer  a  passage  of  temper 
for  an  appointed  statement.  Harry  rushed  off  to  them  with 
a  shout,  and  they  separated;  Laxley  speaking  a  word  to 
Drummond,  Evan  —  most  judiciously,  the  Countess  thought 
—  joining  his  fair  sister  Caroline,  whom  the  Duke  held  in 
converse. 

Drummond  returned  laughing  to  the  side  of  Mrs.  Evre- 
monde,  nearing  whom,  the  Countess,  while  one  ear  was 
being  filled  by  Harry's  eulogy  of  her  brother's  recent  hand- 
ling of  Laxley,  and  while  her  intense  gratification  at  the 
success  of  her  patient  management  of  her  most  difficult  sub- 
ject made  her  smiles  no  mask,  heard,  "Is  it  not  impossible 
to  suppose  such  a  thing?  "  A  hush  ensued  —  the  Countess 
passed. 


EVAN  CALLS   HIMST5LF   GENTLEMAN  197 

In  the  afternoon,  the  Jocelyns,  William  Harvey,  and 
Drummond  met  together  to  consult  about  arranging  the  dis- 
pute ;  and  deputations  went  to  Laxley  and  to  Evan.  The 
former  demanded  an  apology  for  certain  expressions  that 
day ;  and  an  equivalent  to  an  admission  that  Mr.  Harrington 
had  said,  in  Fallowfield,  that  he  was  not  a  gentleman,  in 
order  to  escape  the  consequences.  All  the  Jocelyns  laughed 
at  his  tenacity,  and  "gentleman"  began  to  be  bandied  about 
in  ridicule  of  the  arrogant  lean-headed  adolescent.  Evan 
was  placable  enough,  but  dogged ;  he  declined  to  make  any 
admission,  though  within  himself  he  admitted  that  his 
antagonist  was  not  in  the  position  of  an  impostor ;  which  he 
for  one  honest  word  among  them  would  be  exposed  as  being, 
and  which  a  simple  exercise  of  resolution  to  fly  the  place 
would  save  him  from  being  further. 

Lady  Jocelyn  enjoyed  the  fun,  and  still  more  the  serious 
way  in  which  her  relatives  regarded  it. 

"This  comes  of  Rose  having  friends,  Emily,"  said  Mrs. 
Shorne. 

There  would  have  been  a  dispute  to  arrange  between  Lady 
Jocelyn  and  Mrs.  Shorne,  had  not  her  ladyship  been  so  firmly 
established  in  her  phlegmatic  philosophy.  She  said :  "  Quelle 
enfantillage !  I  dare  say  Rose  was  at  the  bottom  of  it :  she 
can  settle  it  best.  Defer  the  encounter  between  the  boys 
until  they  see  they  are  in  the  form  of  donkeys.  They  will ; 
and  then  they'll  run  on  together,  as  long  as  their  goddess 
permits." 

"  Indeed,  Emily,"  said  Mrs.  Shorne,  "  I  desire  you,  by  all 
possible  means,  to  keep  the  occurrence  secret  from  Rose. 
She  ought  not  to  hear  of  it." 

"  No ;  I  dare  say  she  ought  not,"  returned  Lady  Jocelyn ; 
"  but  I  wager  you  she  does.  You  can  teach  her  to  pretend 
not  to,  if  you  like.     Ecce  signum." 

Her  ladyship  pointed  through  the  library  window  at  Rose, 
who  was  walking  with  Laxley,  and  showing  him  her  pearly 
teeth  in  retui'n  for  one  of  his  jokes :  an  exchange  so  mani- 
festly unfair,  that  Lady  Jocelyn's  womanhood,  indifferent 
as  she  was,  could  not  but  feel  that  Rose  had  an  object  in 
view ;  which  was  true,  for  she  was  flattering  Laxley  into  a 
consent  to  meet  Evan  half  way. 

The  ladies  murmured  and  hummed  of  these  proceedings, 


198  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

and  of  Rose's  familiarity  with  Mr.  Harrington;  and  the 
Countess  in  trepidation  took  Evan  to  herself,  and  spoke  to 
him  seriously  ;  a  thing  she  had  not  done  since  her  residence 
in  Beckley.  She  let  him  see  that  he  must  be  on  a  friendly 
footing  with  everybody  in  the  house,  or  go :  which  latter 
alternative  Evan  told  her  he  had  decided  on. 

"  Yes,"  said  the  Countess,  "  and  then  you  give  people  full 
warrant  to  say  it  was  jealousy  drove  you  hence ;  and  you 
do  but  extinguish  yourself  to  implicate  dear  Rose.  In  love, 
Evan,  when  you  run  away,  you  don't  live  to  fight  another 
day." 

She  was  commanded  not  to  speak  of  love. 

"  Whatever  it  may  be,  my  dear,"  said  the  Countess,  "  Mr. 
Laxley  has  used  you  ill.  It  may  be  that  you  put  yourself  at 
his  feet ;  "  and  his  sister  looked  at  him,  sighing  a  great  sigh. 
She  had,  with  violence,  stayed  her  mouth  concerning  what 
she  knew  of  the  Fallowfield  business,  dreading  to  alarm  his 
sensitiveness ;  but  she  could  not  avoid  giving  him  a  little 
slap.  It  was  only  to  make  him  remember  by  the  smart  that 
he  must  always  suffer  when  he  would  not  be  guided  by  her. 

Evan  professed  to  the  Jocelyns  that  he  was  willing  to 
apologize  to  Laxley  for  certain  expressions ;  determining  to 
leave  the  house  when  he  had  done  it.  The  Countess  heard 
and.  nodded.  The  young  men,  sounded  on  both  sides,  were 
accordingly  lured  to  the  billiard-room,  and  pushed  together : 
and  when  he  had  succeeded  in  thrusting  the  idea  of  Rose 
from  the  dispute,  it  did  seem  such  folly  to  Evan's  common 
sense,  that  he  spoke  with  pleasant  bonhommie  about  it. 
That  done,  he  entered  into  his  acted  part,  and  towered  in 
his  conceit  considerably  above  these  aristocratic  boors,  who 
were  speechless  and  graceless,  but  tigers  for  their  privileges 
and  advantages. 

It  will  not  be  thought  that  the  Countess  intended  to  per- 
mit her  brother's  departure.  To  have  toiled,  and  yet  more, 
to  have  lied  and  fretted  her  conscience,  for  nothing,  was  as 
little  her  principle,  as  to  quit  the  field  of  action  till  she  is 
forcibly  driven  from  it  is  that  of  any  woman. 

"  Going,  my  dear,"  she  said  coolly.  "  To-morrow  ?  Oh ! 
very  well.  You  are  the  judge.  And  this  creature  —  the 
insolvent  to  the  apple-woman,  who  is  coming,  whom  you 
would  push  here  —  will  expose  us,  without  a  soul  to  guide 


EVAN   CALLS   HIMSELF   GENTLEMAN  199 

his  conduct,  for  /  shall  not  remain.     And  Carry  will  not 

remain.      Carry !"      The  Countess  gave  a  semi-sob. 

"Carry  must  return  to  her  brute  — "  meaning  the  gallant 
Marine,  her  possessor. 

And  the  Countess,  knowing  that  Evan  loved  his  sister 
Caroline,  incidentally  related  to  him  an  episode  in  the 
domestic  life  of  Major  and  Mrs.  Strike. 

"  Greatly  redounding  to  the  credit  of  the  noble  martinet 
for  the  discipline  he  upholds,"  the  Countess  said,  smiling  at 
the  stunned  youth. 

"  I  would  advise  you  to  give  her  time  to  recover  from  one 
bruise,"  she  added.     "  You  will  do  as  it  pleases  you." 

Evan  was  sent  rushing  from  the  Countess  to  Caroline, 
with  whom  the  Countess  was  content  to  leave  him. 

The  young  man  was  daintily  managed.  Caroline  asked 
him  to  stay,  as  she  did  not  see  him  often,  and  (she  brought 
it  in  at  the  close)  her  home  was  not  very  happy.  She  did 
not  entreat  him,  but  looking  resigned,  her  lovely  face  con- 
jured up  the  Major  to  Evan,  and  he  thought,  "  Can  I  drive 
her  back  to  her  tyrant  ?  "  For  so  he  juggled  with  himself 
to  have  but  another  day  in  the  sunshine  of  Rose. 

Andrew,  too,  threw  out  genial  hints  about  the  Brewery. 
Old  Tom  intended  to  retire,  he  said,  and  then  they  would 
see  what  they  would  see !  He  silenced  every  word  about 
Lymport;  called  him  a  brewer  already,  and  made  absurd 
jokes,  that  were  serviceable  stuff  nevertheless  to  the  Count- 
ess, who  deplored  to  this  one  and  to  that  the  chance  exist- 
ing that  Evan  might,  by  the  urgent  solicitations  of  his 
brother-in-law,  give  up  diplomacy  and  its  honours  for  a  brew- 
ery and  lucre ! 

Of  course  Evan  knew  that  he  was  managed.  The  memoirs 
of  a  managed  man  have  yet  to  be  written ;  but  if  he  be  sin- 
cere he  will  tell  you  that  he  knew  it  all  the  time.  He  longed 
for  the  sugar-plum ;  he  knew  it  was  naughty  to  take  it :  he 
dared  not  for  fear  of  the  devil,  and  he  shut  his  eyes  while 
somebody  else  popped  it  into  his  mouth,  and  assumed  his 
responsibility.  Being  man-driven  or  chicaned,  is  different 
from  being  managed.  Being  managed  implies  being  led  the 
way  this  other  person  thinks  you  should  go :  altogether  for 
your  own  benefit,  mind :  you  are  to  see  with  her  eyes,  that 
you  may  not  disappoint  your  own  appetites:   which  does 


200  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

not  hurt  the  flesh,  certainly;  but  does  damage  the  con- 
science ;  and  from  the  moment  you  have  once  succumbed, 
that  function  ceases  to  perform  its  office  of  moral  strainer 
so  well. 

After  all,  was  he  not  happier  when  he  wrote  himself 
tailor,  than  when  he  declared  himself  gentleman? 

So  he  now  imagined,  till  Rose,  wishing  him  "Good 
night"  on  the  balcony,  and  abandoning  her  hand  with  a 
steady  sweet  voice  and  gaze,  said :  *'  How  generous  of  you 
to  forgive  my  friend,  dear  Evan !  "  And  the  ravishing  little 
glimpse  of  womanly  softness  in  her,  set  his  heart  beating. 
If  he  thought  at  all,  it  was  that  he  would  have  sacrificed 
body  and  soul  for  her. 


CHAPTER  XIX 

SECOND   DESPATCH   OF   THE  COUNTESS 

We  do  not  advance  very  far  in  this  second  despatch,  and 
it  will  be  found  chiefly  serviceable  for  the  indications  it 
affords  of  our  General's  skill  in  mining,  and  addiction  to 
that  branch  of  military  science.  For  the  moment  I  must 
beg  that  a  little  indulgence  be  granted  to  her. 

"Purely  business.  Great  haste.  Something  has  hap- 
pened. An  event?  I  know  not;  but  events  may  flow 
from  it. 

"A  lady  is  here  who  has  run  away  from  the  conjugal 
abode,  and  Lady  Jocelyn  shelters  her,  and  is  hospitable  to 
another,  who  is  more  concerned  in  this  lady's  sad  fate  than 
he  should  be.  This  may  be  morals,  my  dear:  but  please  do 
not  talk  of  Portugal  now.  A  fine-ish  woman  with  a  great 
deal  of  hair  worn  as  if  her  maid  had  given  it  one  comb 
straight  down  and  then  rolled  it  up  in  a  hurry  round  one 
finger.  Malice  would  say  carrots.  It  is  called  gold.  Mr. 
Forth  is  in  a  glass  house,  and  is  wrong  to  cast  his  sneers  at 
perfectly  inoffensive  people. 

"  Perfectly  impossible  we  can  remain  at  Beckley  Court 


SECOND  DESPATCH   OF  THE  COUNTESS  201 

together  —  if  not  dangerous.  Any  means  that  Providence 
may  designate,  I  would  employ.  It  will  be  like  exorcising 
a  demon.  Always  excusable.  I  only  ask  a  little  more  time 
for  stupid  Evan.  He  might  have  little  Bonner  now.  / 
should  not  object;  but  her  family  is  not  so  good. 

"Kow,  do  attend.  At  once  obtain  a  copy  of  Strike's 
Company  people.  You  understand  —  prospectuses.  Tell 
me  instantly  if  the  Captain  Evremonde  in  it  is  Captain 
Lawson  Evremonde.  Pump  Strike.  Excuse  vulgar  words. 
Whether  he  is  not  Lord  Laxley's  half-brother.     Strike  shall 

be  of  use  to  us.     Whether  he  is  not  vcad.     Captain  E 's 

address.  Oh!  when  I  think  of  Strike  —  brute!  and  poor 
beautiful  uncomplaining  Carry  and  her  shoulder!  But  let 
us  indeed  most  fervently  hope  that  his  Grace  may  be  balm 
to  it.  We  must  not  pray  for  vengeance.  It  is  sinful. 
Providence  will  inflict  that.  Always  know  that  Providence 
is  quite  sure  to.     It  comforts  exceedingly. 

"  Oh,  that  Strike  were  altogether  in  the  past  tense !  No 
knowing  what  the  Duke  might  do  —  a  widower  and  com- 
pletely subjugated.  It  makes  my  bosom  bound.  The  man 
tempts  me  to  the  wickedest  Frenchy  ideas.     There! 

"  We  progress  with  dear  venerable  Mrs.  Bonner.  Truly 
pious  —  interested  in  your  Louisa.  She  dreads  that  my 
husband  will  try  to  convert  me  to  his  creed.  I  can  but 
weep  and  say  —  never ! 

"  I  need  not  say  I  have  my  circle.  To  hear  this  ridiculous 
boy  Harry  Jocelyn  grunt  under  my  nose  when  he  has  led 
me  unsuspectingly  away  from  company  —  Harriet !  dearest ! 
He  thinks  it  a  sigh!     But  there  is  no  time  for  laughing. 

"  My  maxim  in  any  house  is  —  never  to  despise  the  good 
opinion  of  the  nonentities.  They  are  the  majority.  I  think 
they  all  look  up  to  me.  But  then  of  course  you  must  fix 
that  by  seducing  the  stars.  My  diplomatist  praises  my 
abilities  —  Sir  John  Loring  my  style  —  the  rest  follow  and 
I  do  not  withhold  my  smiles,  and  they  are  happy,  and  I 
should  be  but  that  for  ungrateful  Evan's  sake  I  sacrificed 
my  peace  by  binding  myself  to  a  dreadful  sort  of  half-story. 
I  know  I  did  not  quite  say  it.  It  seems  as  if  Sir  A.'s  ghost 
were  going  to  haunt  me.  And  then  I  have  the  most  dread- 
ful fears  that  what  I  have  done  has  disturbed  him  in  the 
other  world.     Can  it  be  so?    It  is  not  money  or  estates  we 


202  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

took  at  all,  dearest!  And  these  excellent  young  curates  — 
I  almost  wish  it  was  Protestant  to  speak  a  word  behind  a 
board  to  them  and  imbibe  comfort.  For  after  all  it  is 
nothing:  and  a  word  even  from  this  poor  thin  mopy  Mr. 
Parsley  might  be  relief  to  a  poor  soul  in  trouble.  Catholics 
tell  you  that  what  you  do  in  a  good  cause  is  redeemable  if 
not  exactly  right.  And  you  know  the  Catholic  is  the  oldest 
Religion  of  the  two.  I  would  listen  to  the  Pope,  staunch 
Protestant  as  I  am,  in  preference  to  King  Henry  the  Eighth. 
Though,  as  a  woman,  I  bear  him  no  rancour,  for  his  wives 
were  —  fools,  point  blank.  No  man  was  ever  so  manage- 
able. My  diplomatist  is  getting  liker  and  liker  to  him 
every  day.  Leaner,  of  course,  and  does  not  habitually 
straddle.  Whiskers  and  morals,  I  mean.  We  must  be 
silent  before  our  prudish  sister.  Not  a  prude?  We  talk 
diplomacy,  dearest.  He  complains  of  the  exclusiveness  of 
the  port  of  Oporto,  and  would  have  strict  alliance  between 
Portugal  and  England,  with  mutual  privileges.  I  wish  the 
alliance,  and  think  it  better  to  maintain  the  exclusiveness. 
Very  trifling;  but  what  is  life! 

"  Adieu.  One  word  to  leave  you  laughing.  Imagine  her 
situation !  This  stupid  Miss  Carrington  has  offended  me. 
She  has  tried  to  pump  Conning,  who,  I  do  not  doubt,  gave 
her  as  much  truth  as  I  chose  she  should  have  in  her  well. 
But  the  quandary  of  the  wretched  creature !  She  takes  Con- 
ning into  her  confidence  —  a  horrible  malady  just  covered 
by  high-neck  dress !     Skin !  and  impossible  that  she  can  tell 

her  engaged  —  who  is  —  guess  —  Mr.  George  Up !    Her 

name  is  Louisa  Carrington.  There  ivas  a  Louisa  Harrington 
once.  Similarity  of  names  perhaps.  Of  course  I  could  not 
let  him  come  to  the  house;  and  of  course  Miss  C.  is  in  a  state 
of  wonderment  and  bad  passions,  I  fear.  I  went  straight  to 
Lady  Roseley,  my  dear.  There  was  nothing  else  for  it  but 
to  go  and  speak.  She  is  truly  a  noble  woman  —  serves  us 
in  every  way.  As  she  should !  —  much  affected  by  sight  of 
Evan,  and  keeps  aloof  from  Beckley  Court.  The  finger  of 
Providence  is  in  all.  Adieu!  but  do  pray  think  of  Miss 
Carrington!  It  was  foolish  of  her  to  offend  me.  Drives 
and  walks  —  the  Duke  attentive.  Description  of  him  when 
I  embrace  you.  I  give  amiable  Sir  Franks  Portuguese 
dishes.     Ah,  my  dear,  if  we  had  none  but  men  to  contend 


SECOND   DESPATCH  OP  THE  COUNTESS  203 

against,  and  only  women  for  our  tools !  But  this  is  asking 
for  the  world,  and  nothing  less. 

"Open  again,"  she  pursues.  "Dear  Carry  just  come  in. 
There  are  fairies,  I  think,  where  there  are  dukes !  Where 
could  it  have  come  from?  Could  any  human  being  have 
sent  messengers  post  to  London,  ordered,  and  had  it  de- 
spatched here  within  this  short  time?  You  shall  not  be 
mystified!  I  do  not  think  I  even  hinted;  but  the  after- 
noon walk  I  had  with  his  Grace,  on  the  first  day  of  his 
arrival,  I  did  shadow  it  very  delicately  how  much  it  was  to 
be  feared  our  poor  Carry  could  not,  that  she  dared  not, 
betray  her  liege  lord  in  an  evening  dress.  Nothing  more, 
upon  my  veracity!  And  Carry  has  this  moment  received 
the  most  beautiful  green  box,  containing  two  of  the  most 
heavenly  old  lace  shawls  that  you  ever  beheld.  We  divine 
it  is  to  hide  poor  Carry's  matrimonial  blue  mark!  We 
know  nothing.  Will  you  imagine  Carry  is  for  not  accepting 
it!  Priority  of  birth  does  not  imply  superior  wits,  dear  — 
no  allusion  to  you.  I  have  undertaken  all.  Arch  looks,  but 
nothing  pointed.  His  Grace  will  understand  the  exquisite 
expression  of  feminine  gratitude.  It  is  so  sweet  to  deal 
with  true  nobility.  Carry  has  only  to  look  as  she  always 
does.  One  sees  Strike  sitting  on  her.  Her  very  pliability 
has  rescued  her  from  being  utterly  squashed  long  ere  this ! 
The  man  makes  one  vulgar.  It  would  have  been  not  the 
slightest  use  asking  me  to  be  a  Christian  had  I  wedded 
Strike.  But  think  of  the  fairy  presents!  It  has  deter- 
mined me  not  to  be  expelled  by  Mr.  Forth  —  quite.  Tell 
Silva  he  is  not  forgotten.  But,  my  dear,  between  us  alone, 
men  are  so  selfish,  that  it  is  too  evident  they  do  not  care 
for  private  conversations  to  turn  upon  a  lady's  husband :  not 
to  be  risked,  only  now  and  then. 

"  I  hear  that  the  young  ladies  and  the  young  gentlemen 
have  been  out  riding  a  race.  The  poor  little  Bonner  girl 
cannot  ride,  and  she  says  to  Carry  that  Eose  wishes  to  break 
our  brother's  neck.  The  child  hardly  wishes  that,  but  she 
is  feelingless.  If  Evan  could  care  for  Miss  Bonner,  he 
might  have  B.  C. !  Oh,  it  is  not  so  very  long  a  shot,  my 
dear.  I  am  on  the  spot,  remember.  Old  Mrs.  Bonner  is 
a  most  just-minded  spirit.  Juliana  is  a  cripple,  and  her 
grandmother  wishes  to  be  sure  that  when  she  departs  to 


204  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

her  Lord  the  poor  cripple  may  not  be  chased  from  this 
home  of  hers.  Eose  cannot  calculate  —  Harry  is  in  dis- 
grace—  there  is  really  no  knowing.  This  is  how  I  have 
reckoned;  10,000^.  extra  to  Rose;  perhaps  lOOOZ.  or  nothing 
to  H. ;  all  the  rest  of  ready -money  —  a  large  sum  —  no  use 
guessing  —  to  Lady  Jocelyn;  and  B.  C.  to  little  Bonner  — 
it  is  worth  40,000Z.  Then  she  sells,  or  stops  —  permanent 
resident.  It  miglit  be  so  soon,  for  /  can  see  worthy  Mrs. 
Bonner  to  be  breaking  visibly.  But  young  men  will  not 
see  with  wiser  eyes  than  their  own.  Here  is  Evan  risking 
his  neck  for  an  indifferent  —  there's  some  word  for  'not 
soft.'  In  short,  Rose  is  the  cold-blooded  novice,  as  I  have 
always  said,  the  most  selfish  of  the  creatures  on  two  legs. 

**  Adieu !  Would  you  have  dreamed  that  Major  Night- 
mare's gallantry  to  his  wife  would  have  called  forth  a  gal- 
lantry so  truly  touching  and  delicate?  Can  you  not  see 
Providence  there?     Out  of  evil  —  the  Catholics  again! 

"Address.  If  Lord  Lax — 's  half-brother.  If  wrong  in 
noddle.  This  I  know  you  will  attend  to  scrupulously. 
Ridiculous  words  are  sometimes  the  most  expressive.  Once 
more,  may  Heaven  bless  you  all !  I  thought  of  you  in  church 
last  Sunday. 

"  I  may  tell  you  this :  young  Mr.  Laxley  is  here.  He  — 
but  it  was  Evan's  utter  madness  was  the  cause,  and  I  have 
not  ventured  a  word  to  him.  He  compelled  Evan  to  assert 
his  rank,  and  Mr.  Forth's  face  has  been  one  concentrated 
sneer  since  thex.  He  must  know  the  origin  of  the  Cog- 
glesbys,  or  something.  Now  you  will  understand  the 
importance.  I  cannot  be  more  explicit.  Only  —  the  wan 
must  go. 

*'  P.  S.  I  have  just  ascertained  that  Lady  Jocelyn  is  quite 
familiar  with  Andrew's  origin!!  She  must  think  my  poor 
Harriet  an  eccentric  woman.  Of  course  I  have  not  pre- 
tended to  rank  here,  merely  gentry.  It  is  gentry  in  reality, 
for  had  poor  Papa  been  legitimitized,  he  would  have  been  a 
nobleman.  You  know  that;  and  between  the  two  we  may 
certainly  claim  gentry.  I  twiddle  your  little  good  Andrew 
to  assert  it  for  us  twenty  times  a  day.  Of  all  the  dear  little 
manageable  men!  It  does  you  infinite  credit  that  you 
respect  him  as  you  do.  What  would  become  of  me  I  do 
not  know. 


SECOND  DESPATCH  OF  THE  COUNTESS  205 

"  P.  S.  I  said  two  shawls  —  a  black  and  a  white.  The 
black  not  so  costly  —  very  well.  And  so  delicate  of  him 
to  think  of  the  mourning!  But  the  white,  my  dear,  must 
he  family  —  must!  Old  English  point.  Exquisitely  chaste. 
So  dilferent  from  that  Brussels  poor  Andrew  surprised  you 
with.  I  know  it  cost  money,  but  this  is  a  question  of  taste. 
The  Duke  reconciles  me  to  England  and  all  my  troubles! 
He  is  more  like  poor  Papa  than  any  one  of  the  men  I  have 
yet  seen.  The  perfect  gentleman !  I  do  praise  myself  for 
managing  an  invitation  to  our  Carry.  She  has  been  a 
triumph." 

Admire  the  concluding  stroke.  The  Countess  calls  this 
letter  a  purely  business  communication.  Commercial  men 
might  hardly  think  so;  but  perhaps  ladies  will  perceive  it. 
She  rambles  concentrically,  if  I  may  so  expound  her.  Full 
of  luxurious  enjoyment  of  her  position,  her  mind  is  active, 
and  you  see  her  at  one  moment  marking  a  plot,  the  next, 
with  a  light  exclamation,  appeasing  her  conscience,  proud 
that  she  has  one;  again  she  calls  up  rival  forms  of  faith, 
that  she  may  show  the  Protestant  its  little  shortcomings, 
and  that  it  is  slightly  in  debt  to  her  (like  Providence)  for 
her  constancy,  notwithstanding.  The  Protestant  you  see, 
does  not  confess,  and  she  has  to  absolve  herself,  and  must 
be  doing  it  internally  while  she  is  directing  outer  matters. 
Hence  her  slap  at  King  Henry  VIII.  In  fact,  there  is 
much  more  business  in  this  letter  than  I  dare  to  indicate ; 
but  as  it  is  both  impertinent  and  unpopular  to  dive  for  any 
length  of  time  beneath  the  surface  (especially  when  there 
are  few  pearls  to  show  for  it),  we  will  discontinue  our 
examination. 

The  Countess,  when  she  had  dropped  the  letter  in  the 
bag,  returned  to  her  chamber,  and  deputed  Dorothy  Loring, 
whom  she  met  on  the  stairs,  to  run  and  request  Rose  to 
lend  her  her  album  to  beguile  the  afternoon  with;  and 
Dorothy  dances  to  Rose,  saying,  "  The  Countess  de  Lispy- 
Lispy  would  be  delighted  to  look  at  your  album  all  the 
afternoon." 

"  Oh  what  a  woman  that  is !  "  says  Rose.  "  Countess  de 
Lazy-Lazy,  I  think." 

The  Countess,  had  she  been  listening,  would  have  cared 
little  for  accusations  on  that  head.    Idlesse  was  fashionable : 


206  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

exquisite  languors  were  a  sign  of  breeding ;  and  slie  always 
had  an  idea  that  she  looked  more  interesting  at  dinner  after 
reclining  on  a  couch  the  whole  of  the  afternoon.  The  great 
Mel  and  his  mate  had  given  her  robust  health,  and  she  was 
able  to  play  the  high-born  invalid  without  damage  to  her 
constitution.  Anything  amused  her;  Eose's  album  even, 
and  the  compositions  of  W.  H.,  E.  H.,  D.  F.,  and  F.  L.  The 
initials  F.  L.  were  diminutive,  and  not  unlike  her  own  hand, 
she  thought.  They  were  appended  to  a  piece  of  facetious- 
ness  that  would  not  have  disgraced  the  abilities  of  Mr.  John 
Raikes;  but  we  know  that  very  stiff  young  gentlemen  be- 
tray monkey-minds  when  sweet  young  ladies  compel  them 
to  disport.  On  the  whole,  it  was  not  a  lazy  afternoon  that 
the  Countess  passed,  and  it  was  not  against  her  wish  that 
others  should  think  it  was. 


CHAPTER  XX 

BREAK-NECK    LEAP 


The  August  sun  was  in  mid-sky,  when  a  troop  of  ladies 
and  cavaliers  issued  from  the  gates  of  Beckley  Court,  and 
winding  through  the  hopgardens,  emerged  on  the  cultivated 
slopes  bordering  the  downs.  Foremost,  on  her  grey  cob,  was 
Rose,  having  on  her  right  her  uncle  Seymour,  and  on  her 
left  Ferdinand  Laxley.  Behind  came  Mrs.  Evremonde, 
flanked  by  Drummond  and  Evan.  Then  followed  Jenny 
Graine,  supported  by  Harry  and  William  Harvey.  In  the 
rear  came  an  open  carriage,  in  which  Miss  Carrington  and 
the  Countess  de  Saldar  were  borne,  attended  by  Lady 
Jocelyn  and  Andrew  Cogglesby  on  horseback.  The  expedi- 
tion had  for  its  object  the  selection  of  a  run  of  ground  for  an 
amateur  steeple-chase :  the  idea  of  which  had  sprung  from 
Laxley's  boasts  of  his  horsemanship :  and  Rose,  quick  as  fire, 
had  backed  herself,  and  Drummond  and  Evan,  to  beat  him. 
The  mention  of  the  latter  was  quite  enough  for  Laxley. 

"  If  he  follows  me,  let  him  take  care  of  his  neck,"  said 
that  youth- 


BREAK-NECK  LEAP  207 

"  Why,  Ferdinand,  he  can  beat  you  in  anything ! "  ex- 
claimed Rose,  imprudently. 

But  the  truth  was,  she  was  now  more  restless  than  ever. 
She  was  not  distant  with  Evan,  but  she  had  a  feverish  man- 
ner, and  seemed  to  thirst  to  make  him  show  his  qualities, 
and  excel,  and  shine.  Billiards,  or  jumping,  or  classical 
acquirements,  it  mattered  not  —  Evan  must  come  first.  He 
had  crossed  the  foils  with  Laxley,  and  disarmed  him ;  for 
Mel  his  father  had  seen  him  trained  for  a  military  career. 
Rose  made  a  noise  about  the  encounter,  and  Laxley  was 
eager  for  his  opportunity,  which  he  saw  in  the  proposed 
mad  gallop. 

Now  Mr.  George  Uploft,  who  usually  rode  in  buckskins 
whether  he  was  after  the  fox  or  fresh  air,  was  out  on  this 
particular  morning ;  and  it  happened  that,  as  the  cavalcade 
wound  beneath  the  down,  Mr.  George  trotted  along  the  ridge. 
He  was  a  fat-faced,  rotund  young  squire  —  a  bully  where  he 
might  be,  and  an  obedient  creature  enough  where  he  must  be 
— good  humoured  when  not  interfered  with ;  fond  of  the  table, 
and  brimful  of  all  the  jokes  of  the  county,  the  accent  of  which 
just  seasoned  his  speech.  He  had  somehow  plunged  into  a 
sort  of  half-engagement  with  Miss  Carrington.  At  his  age, 
and  to  ladies  of  Miss  Carrington's  age,  men  unhappily  do 
not  plunge  head-foremost,  or  Miss  Carrington  would  have 
had  him  long  before.  But  he  was  at  least  in  for  it  half 
a  leg;  and  a  desperate  maiden,  on  the  criminal  side  of 
thirty,  may  make  much  of  that.  Previous  to  the  visit  of 
the  Countess  de  Saldar,  Mr.  George  had  been  in  the  habit 
of  trotting  over  to  Beckley  three  or  four  times  a  week. 
Miss  Carrington  had  a  little  money :  Mr.  George  was  heir 
to  his  uncle.  Miss  Carrington  was  lean  and  blue-eyed : 
Mr.  George  black-eyed  and  obese.  By  everybody,  except 
Mr.  George,  the  match  was  made :  but  that  exception  goes 
for  little  in  the  country,  where  half  the  population  are 
talked  into  marriage,  and  gossips  entirely  devote  them- 
selves to  continuing  the  species.  Mr.  George  was  certain 
that  he  had  not  been  fighting  shy  of  the  fair  Carrington 
of  late,  nor  had  he  been  unfaithful.  He  had  only  been 
in  an  extraordinary  state  of  occupation.  Messages  for 
Lady  Roseley  had  to  be  delivered,  and  he  had  become  her 
cavalier  and  escort  suddenly.     The  young  squire  was  bewil- 


208  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

dered ;  but  as  he  was  only  one  leg  in  love  —  if  the  sentiment 
may  be  thus  spoken  of  figuratively  —  his  vanity  in  his  present 
office  kept  him  from  remorse  or  uneasiness.  He  rode  at  an 
easy  pace  within  sight  of  the  home  of  his  treasure,  and  his 
back  turned  to  it.  Presently  there  rose  a  cry  from  below. 
Mr.  George  looked  about.  The  party  of  horsemen  hallooed. 
Mr.  George  yoicked.  Rose  set  her  horse  to  gallop  up ;  Sey- 
mour Jocely n  cried  "  fox,"  and  gave  the  view ;  hearing  which 
Mr.  George  shouted,  and  seemed  inclined  to  surrender ;  but 
the  fun  seized  him,  and,  standing  up  in  his  stirrups,  he 
gathered  his  coat-tails  in  a  bunch,  and  waggled  them  with  a 
jolly  laugh,  which  was  taken  up  below,  and  the  clamp  of  hoofs 
resounded  on  the  turf  as  Mr.  George  led  off,  after  once  more, 
with  a  jocose  twist  in  his  seat,  showing  them  the  brush 
mockingly.  Away  went  fox,  and  a  mad  chase  began.  Sey- 
mour acted  as  master  of  the  hunt.  Rose,  Evan,  Drummond, 
and  Mrs.  Evremonde  and  Dorothy,  skirted  to  the  right,  all 
laughing,  and  full  of  excitement.  Harry  bellowed  the  direc- 
tion from  above.  The  ladies  in  the  carriage,  with  Lady 
Jocelyn  and  Andrew,  watched  them  till  they  flowed  one  and 
all  over  the  shoulder  of  the  down. 

"  And  who  may  the  poor  hunted  animal  be  ?  "  inquired 
the  Countess. 

"George  Uploft,"  said  Lady  Jocelyn,  pulling  out  her 
watch.     "  I  give  him  twenty  minutes." 

"  Providence  speed  him  ! "  breathed  the  Countess,  with 
secret  fervour. 

"  Oh,  he  hasn't  a  chance,"  said  Lady  Jocelyn.  "  The 
squire  keeps  wretched  beasts." 

"  Is  there  not  an  attraction  that  will  account  for  his  hasty 
capture  ?  "  said  the  Countess,  looking  tenderly  at  Miss  Car- 
rington,  who  sat  a  little  straighter,  and  the  Countess,  hating 
manifestations  of  stiff-backedness,  could  not  forbear  adding : 
"  I  am  at  war  with  my  sympathies,  which  should  be  with 
the  poor  brute  flying  from  his  persecutors." 

She  was  in  a  bitter  state  of  trepidation,  or  she  would  have 
thought  twice  before  she  touched  a  nerve  of  the  enamoured 
lady,  as  she  knew  she  did  in  calling  her  swain  a  poor  brute, 
and  did  again  by  pertinaciously  pursuing :  "  Does  he  then 
shun  his  captivity  ?  " 

"Touching  a  nerve"  is  one  of  those  unforgivable  small 


BREAK-NECK  LEAP  209 

offences  which,  in  our  civilized  state,  produce  the  social  ven- 
dettas and  dramas  that,  with  savage  nations,  spring  from  the 
spilling  of  blood.  Instead  of  an  eye  for  an  eye,  a  tooth  for  a 
tooth,  we  demand  a  nerve  for  a  nerve.  "  Thou  hast  touched 
me  where  I  am  tender — thee,  too,  will  I  touch." 

Miss  Carrington  had  been  alarmed  and  hurt  at  the  strange 
evasion  of  Mr.  G  eorge ;  nor  could  she  see  the  fim  of  his  mimi- 
cry of  the  fox  and  his  flight  away  from  instead  of  into  her 
neighbourhood.  She  had  also,  or  she  now  thought  it,  remarked 
that  when  Mr.  George  had  been  spoken  of  casually,  the  Count- 
ess had  not  looked  a  natural  look.  Perhaps  it  was  her  pres- 
ent inflamed  fancy.  At  any  rate  the  Countess  was  offensive 
now.  She  was  positively  vulgar,  in  consequence,  to  the  mind 
of  Miss  Carrington,  and  Miss  Carrington  was  drawn  to  think 
of  a  certain  thing  Ferdinand  Laxley  had  said  he  had  heard 
from  the  mouth  of  this  lady's  brother  when  ale  was  in  him. 
Alas !  how  one  seed  of  a  piece  of  folly  will  lurk  and  sprout 
to  confound  us ;  though,  like  the  cock  in  the  eastern  tale,  we 
peck  up  zealously  all  but  that  one  ! 

The  carriage  rolled  over  the  turf,  attended  by  Andrew  and 
Lady  Jocelyn,  and  the  hunt  was  seen ;  Mr.  George  some  forty 
paces  a-head ;  Seymour  gaining  on  him,  Eose  next. 

"  Who's  that  breasting  Kose  ?  "  said  Lady  Jocelyn,  lifting 
her  glass. 

"  My  brother-in-law,  Harrington,"  returned  Andrew. 

"He  doesn't  ride  badly,"  said  Lady  Jocelyn.  "A  little 
too  military.     He  must  have  been  set  up  in  England." 

"Oh,  Evan  can  do  anything,"  said  Andrew  enthusiasti- 
cally. "  His  father  was  a  capital  horseman,  and  taught  him 
fencing,  riding,  and  every  accomplishment.  You  won't  find 
such  a  young  fellow,  my  lady " 

"  The  brother  like  him  at  all  ?  "  asked  Lady  Jocelyn,  still 
eyeing  the  chase. 

"  Brother  ?    He  hasn't  got  a  brother,"  said  Andrew. 

Lady  Jocelyn  continued :  "  I  mean  the  present  baronet." 

She  was  occupied  with  her  glass,  and  did  not  observe  the 
flush  that  took  hold  of  Andrew's  ingenuous  cheeks,  and  his 
hurried  glance  at  and  off  the  quiet  eye  of  the  Coimtess. 
Miss  Carrington  did  observe  it. 

Mr.  Andrew  dashed  his  face  under  the  palm  of  his  haod, 
and  murmured : 


210  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

"Oh — yes!  His  brother-in-law  isn't  much  like  him  — 
ha!  ha!" 

And  then  the  poor  little  man  rubbed  his  hands,  uncon- 
scious of  the  indignant  pity  for  his  wretched  abilities  in  the 
gaze  of  the  Countess;  and  he  must  have  been  exposed  — 
there  was  a  fear  that  the  ghost  of  Sir  Abraham  would  have 
darkened  this  day,  for  Miss  Carrington  was  about  to  speak, 
when  Lady  Jocelyu  cried :  "  There's  a  purl !  Somebody's 
down." 

The  Countess  was  unaware  of  the  nature  of  a  purl,  but 
she  could  have  sworn  it  to  be  a  piece  of  Providence. 

"Just  by  old  Nat  Hodges'  farm,  on  Squire  Copping's 
ground,"  cried  Andrew,  much  relieved  by  the  particular 
individual's  misfortune.  "  Dear  me,  my  lady !  how  old  Tom 
and  I  used  to  jump  the  brook  there,  to  be  sure !  and  when 
you  were  no  bigger  than  little  Miss  Loring — do  you  re- 
member old  Tom  ?     We're  all  fools  one  time  in  our  lives !  " 

"  Who  can  it  be  ? "  said  Lady  Jocelyn,  spying  at  the 
discomfited  horseman.     "I'm  afraid  it's  poor  Ferdinand." 

They  drove  on  to  an  eminence  from  which  the  plain  was 
entirely  laid  open. 

"  I  hope  my  brother  will  enjoy  his  ride  this  day,"  sighed 
the  Countess.  "It  will  be  his  limit  of  enjoyment  for  a 
lengthened  period ! " 

She  perceived  that  Mr.  George's  capture  was  inevitable, 
and  her  heart  sank;  for  she  was  sure  he  would  recognize 
her,  and  at  the  moment  she  misdoubted  her  powers.  She 
dreamed  of  flight. 

"  You're  not  going  to  leave  us  ? "  said  Lady  Jocelyn. 
"  My  dear  Countess,  what  will  the  future  member  do  with- 
out you  ?  We  have  your  promise  to  stay  till  the  election 
is  over." 

"  Thanks  for  your  extreme  kind  courtesy.  Lady  Jocelyn," 
murmured  the  Countess :  "  but  my  husband  —  the  Count." 

"The  favour  is  yours,"  returned  her  ladyship.  "And 
if  the  Count  cannot  come,  you  at  least  are  at  liberty  ?  " 

"  You  are  most  kind,"  said  the  Countess. 

"Andrew  and  his  wife  I  should  not  dare  to  separate  for 
more  than  a  week,"  said  Lady  Jocelyn.  "  He  is  the  great 
British  husband.  The  proprietor !  '  My  wife '  is  i.s  unan- 
swerable excuse." 


BREAK-NECK   LEAP  211 

"Yes,"  Andrew  replied  cheerily.  "I  don't  like  division 
between  man  and  wife,  I  must  say." 

The  Countess  dared  no  longer  instance  the  Count,  her 
husband.  She  was  heard  to  murmur  that  citizen  feelings 
were  not  hers. 

"  You  suggested  Fallowfield  to  Melville,  did  you  not  ?  " 
asked  Lady  Jocelyn. 

"It  was  the  merest  suggestion,"  said  the  Countess, 
smiling. 

"Then  you  must  really  stay  to  see  us  through  it,"  said 
her  ladyship.  "  Where  are  they  now  ?  They  must  be 
making  straight  for  break-neck  fence.  They'll  have  him 
there.     George  hasn't  pluck  for  that." 

"  Hasn't  what  ?  " 

It  was  the  Countess  who  requested  to  know  the  name  of 
this  other  piece  of  Providence  Mr.  George  Uploft  was  defi- 
cient in. 

"Pluck  —  go,"  said  her  ladyship  hastily,  and  telling  the 
coachman  to  drive  to  a  certain  spot,  trotted  on  with  Andrew, 
saying  to  him :  "  I'm  afraid  we  are  thought  vulgar  by  the 
Countess." 

Andrew  considered  it  best  to  reassure  her  gravely. 

"The  young  man,  her  brother,  is  well-bred,"  said  Lady 
Jocelyn,  and  Andrew  was  very  ready  to  praise  Evan. 

Lady  Jocelyn,  herself  in  slimmer  days  a  spirited  horse- 
woman, had  correctly  estimated  Mr.  George's  pluck.  He 
was  captured  by  Harry  and  Evan  close  on  the  leap,  in  the 
act  of  shaking  his  head  at  it ;  and  many  who  inspected  the 
leap  would  have  deemed  it  a  sign  that  wisdom  weighted 
the  head  that  would  shake  long  at  it ;  for  it  consisted  of  a 
post  and  rails,  with  a  double  ditch. 

Seymour  Jocelyn,  Mrs.  Evremonde,  Drummond,  Jenny 
Graine,  and  William  Harvey,  rode  with  Mr.  George  in 
quest  of  the  carriage,  and  the  captive  was  duly  delivered 
over. 

"But  Where's  the  brush?"  said  Lady  Jocelyn,  laughing, 
and  introducing  him  to  the  Countess,  who  dropped  her  head, 
and  with  it  her  veil. 

■  "Oh!    they  leave  that  on  for  my  next  run,"  said  Mr. 
George,  bowing  civilly. 

"You  are  going  to  run  again?" 


212  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Miss  Carrington  severely  asked  this  question;  and  Mr. 
George  protested. 

"Secure  him,  Louisa,"  said  Lady  Jocelyn.  "See  here: 
what's  the  matter  with  poor  Dorothy?" 

Dorothy  came  slowly  trotting  up  to  them  along  the  green 
lane,  and  thus  expressed  her  grief,  between  sobs : 

"Isn't  it  a  shame?  Rose  is  such  a  tyrant.  They're 
going  to  ride  a  race  and  a  jump  down  in  the  field,  and  it's 
break-neck  leap,  and  Rose  won't  allow  me  to  stop  and  see 
it,  though  she  knows  I'm  just  as  fond  of  Evan  as  she  is; 
and  if  he's  killed  I  declare  it  will  be  her  fault;  and  it's  all 
for  her  stupid,  dirty  old  pocket  handkerchief ! " 

"Break-neck  fence!"  said  Lady  Jocelyn;  "that's  rather 
mad." 

"  Do  let's  go  and  see  it,  darling  Aunty  Joey,"  pleaded  the 
little  maid. 

Lady  Jocelyn  rode  on,  saying  to  herself :  "  That  girl  has 
a  great  deal  of  devil  in  her."  The  lady's  thoughts  were  of 
Rose. 

"Black  Lymport  'd  take  the  leap,"  said  Mr.  George, 
following  her  with  the  rest  of  the  troop.  "Who's  that 
fellow  on  him?" 

"His  name's  Harrington,"  quoth  Drummond. 

"  Oh,  Harrington !  "  Mr.  George  responded ;  but  imme- 
diately laughed  —  "Harrington?  'Gad,  if  he  takes  the 
leap  it'll  be  odd  —  another  of  the  name.  That's  where  old 
Mel  had  his  spill." 

"Who?"  Drummond  inquired. 

"  Old  Mel  Harrington  —  the  Lymport  wonder.  Old  Mar- 
quis Mel,"  said  Mr.  George.     "Haven't  ye  heard  of  him?" 

"What!  the  gorgeous  tailor!"  exclaimed  Lady  Jocelyn, 
"  How  I  regret  never  meeting  that  magnificent  snob !  that 
efflorescence  of  sublime  imposture!  I've  seen  the  Regent; 
but  one's  life  doesn't  seem  complete  without  having  seen 
his  twin-brother.  You  must  give  us  warning  when  you 
have  him  down  at  Croftlands  again,  Mr.  George." 

"'Gad,  he'll  have  to  come  a  long  distance  —  poor  old 
Mel ! "  said  Mr.  George ;  and  was  going  on,  when  Seymour 
Jocelyn  stroked  his  moustache  to  cry,  "Look!  Rosey's 
staxting  'em,  by  Jove !  " 

The  leap,  which  did  not  appear  formidable  from  wheit 


BREAK-NECK  LEAP  213 

they  stood,  was  four  fields  distant  from  the  point  where 
Rose,  with  a  handkerchief  in  her  hand,  was  at  that  moment 
giving  the  signal  to  Laxley  and  Evan. 

Miss  Carrington  and  the  Countess  begged  Lady  Jocelyn 
to  order  a  shout  to  be  raised  to  arrest  them,  but  her  lady- 
ship marked  her  good  sense  by  saying:  "Let  them  go,  now 
they're  about  it;"  for  she  saw  that  to  make  a  fuss  now 
matters  had  proceeded  so  far,  was  to  be  uncivil  to  the 
inevitable. 

The  start  was  given,  and  off  they  flew.  Harry  Jocelyn, 
behind  them,  was  evidently  caught  by  the  demon,  and 
clapped  spurs  to  his  horse  to  have  his  fling  as  well,  for 
the  fun  of  the  thing;  but  Rose,  farther  down  the  field,  rode 
from  her  post  straight  across  him,  to  the  imminent  peril  of 
a  mutual  overset;  and  the  party  on  the  height  could  see 
Harry  fuming,  and  Rose  coolly  looking  him  down,  and  let- 
ting him  understand  what  her  will  was ;  and  her  mother, 
and  Drummond,  and  Seymour  who  beheld  this,  had  a  com- 
mon sentiment  of  admiration  for  the  gallant  girl.  But 
away  went  the  rivals.  Black  Lymport  was  the  favourite, 
though  none  of  the  men  thought  he  would  be  put  at  the 
fence.  The  excitement  became  contagious.  The  Countess 
threw  up  her  veil.  Lady  Jocelyn,  and  Seymour,  and 
Drummond,  galloped  down  the  lane,  and  Mr.  George  was 
for  accompanying  them,  till  the  line  of  Miss  Carrington's 
back  gave  him  her  unmistakeable  opinion  of  such  a  course 
of  conduct,  and  he  had  to  dally  and  fret  by  her  side. 
Andrew's  arm  was  tightly  grasped  by  the  Countess.  The 
rivals  were  crossing  the  second  field,  Laxley  a  little  a-head. 

"He's  holding  in  the  black  mare  —  that  fellow!"  said 
Mr.  George.  "  'Gad,  it  looks  like  going  at  the  fence. 
Fancy  Harrington ! " 

They  were  now  in  the  fourth  field,  a  smooth  shorn  meadow. 
Laxley  was  two  clear  lengths  in  advance,  but  seemed  riding, 
as  Mr.  George  remarked,  more  for  pace  than  to  take  the  jump. 
The  ladies  kept  plying  random  queries  and  suggestions  :  the 
Countess  wishing  to  know  whether  they  could  not  be  stopped 
by  a  countryman  before  they  encountered  anj  danger.  In  the 
midst  of  their  chatter,  Mr.  George  rose  in  his  stirrups,  cry- 
ing :  "  Bravo,  the  black  mare ! " 

''  Has  he  done  it  ?  "  said  Andrew,  wiping  his  poll. 


214  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"  He  ?  No,  the  mare ! "  shouted  Mr.  George,  and  bolted 
off,  no  longer  to  be  restrained. 

The  Countess,  doubly  relieved,  threw  herself  back  in  the  car- 
riage, and  Andrew  drew  a  breath,  saying :  "  Evan  has  beat 
him  —  I  saw  that !    The  other's  horse  swerved  right  round." 

"  I  fear,"  said  Mrs.  Evremonde,  "  Mr.  Harrington  has  had 
a  fall.     Don't  be  alarmed  —  it  may  not  be  much." 

"  A  fall ! "  exclaimed  the  Countess,  equally  divided  between 
alarms  of  sisterly  affection  and  a  keen  sense  of  the  romance 
of  the  thing. 

Miss  Carrington  ordered  the  carriage  to  be  driven  round. 
They  had  not  gone  far  when  they  were  met  by  Harry  Jocelyn 
riding  in  hot  haste,  and  he  bellowed  to  the  coachman  to  drive 
as  hard  as  he  could,  and  stop  opposite  Brook's  farm. 

The  scene  on  the  other  side  of  the  fence  would  have  been 
a  sweet  one  to  the  central  figure  in  it  had  his  eyes  then  been 
open.  Surrounded  by  Lady  Jocelyn,  Drummond,  Seymour, 
and  the  rest,  Evan's  dust-stained  body  was  stretched  along 
the  road,  and  his  head  was  lying  in  the  lap  of  Rose,  who, 
pale,  heedless  of  anything  spoken  by  those  around  her,  and 
with  her  lips  set  and  her  eyes  turning  wildly  from  one  to  the 
other,  held  a  gory  handkerchief  to  his  temple  with  one  hand, 
and  with  the  other  felt  for  the  motion  of  his  heart. 

But  heroes  don't  die,  you  know. 


CHAPTER  XXI 

TBIBULATI0N8   AND   TACTICS    OF   THE   COUNTESS 

"You  have  murdered  my  brother.  Rose  Jocelyn!" 

"  Don't  say  so  now." 

Such  was  the  interchange  between  the  two  that  loved  the 
senseless  youth,  as  he  was  being  lifted  into  the  carriage. 

Lady  Jocelyn  sat  upright  in  her  saddle,  giving  directions 
about  what  was  to  be  done  with  Evan  and  the  mare,  impar- 
tially. 

"  Stunned,  and  a  good  deal  shaken,  I  suppose ;  Lymport's 
knees  are  terribly  cut,"  she  said  to  Drummond,  who  merely 


TRIBULATIONS,   ETC.,   OF  THE  COUNTESS         215 

nodded.  And  Seymour  remarked,  "Fifty  guineas  knocked 
off  her  value ! "  One  added,  "  Nothing  worse,  I  should 
think ; "  and  another,  "  A  little  damage  inside,  perhaps." 
Difficult  to  say  whether  they  spoke  of  Evan  or  the  brute. 

No  violent  outcries ;  no  reproaches  cast  on  the  cold-blooded 
coquette;  no  exclamations  on  the  heroism  of  her  brother! 
They  could  absolutely  spare  a  thought  for  the  animal !  And 
Evan  had  risked  his  life  for  this,  and  might  die  unpitied. 
The  Countess  diversified  her  grief  with  a  deadly  bitterness 
against  the  heartless  Jocelyns. 

Oh,  if  Evan  dies  !  will  it  punish  Rose  sufficiently  ? 

Andrew  expressed  emotion,  but  not  of  a  kind  the  Countess 
liked  a  relative  to  be  seen  exhibiting ;  for  in  emotion  worthy 
Andrew  betrayed  to  her  his  origin  offensively. 

"  Go  away  and  puke,  if  you  must,"  she  said,  clipping  poor 
Andrew's  word  about  his  "  dear  boy."  She  could  not  help 
speaking  in  that  way  —  he  was  so  vulgar.  A  word  of  sym- 
pathy from  Lady  Jocelyn  might  have  saved  her  from  the 
sourness  into  which  her  many  conflicting  passions  were  resolv- 
ing ;  and  might  also  have  saved  her  ladyship  from  the  ran- 
cour she  had  sown  in  the  daughter  of  the  great  Mel  by  her 
selection  of  epithets  to  characterize  him. 

Will  it  punish  Rose  at  all,  if  Evan  dies  ? 

Rose  saw  that  she  was  looked  at.  How  could  the  Countess 
tell  that  Rose  envied  her  the  joy  of  holding  Evan  in  the  car- 
riage there?  Rose,  to  judge  by  her  face,  was  as  calm  as 
glass.  Not  so  well  seen  through,  however.  Mrs.  Evre- 
monde  rode  beside  her,  whose  fingers  she  caught,  and 
twined  her  own  with  them  tightly  once  for  a  fleeting  in- 
stant. Mrs.  Evremonde  wanted  no  further  confession  of 
her  state. 

Then  Rose  said  to  her  mother,  "Mama,  may  I  ride  to 
have  the  doctor  ready?  " 

Ordinarily,  Rose  would  have  clapped  heel  to  horse  the 
moment  the  thought  came.  She  waited  for  the  permission, 
and  flew  off  at  a  gallop,  waving  back  Laxley,  who  was  for 
joining  her. 

"Franks  will  be  a  little  rusty  about  the  mare,"  the 
Countess  heard  Lady  Jocelyn  say;  and  Harry  just  then 
stooped  his  head  to  the  carriage,  and  said,  in  his  blunt 
fashion,  "After  all,  it  won't  show  much." 


216  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

"  We  are  not  cattle ! "  exclaimed  the  frenzied  Countess, 
within  her  bosom.  Alas!  it  was  almost  a  democratic  out- 
cry they  made  her  guilty  of;  but  she  was  driven  past  pa- 
tience. And  as  a  further  provocation,  Evan  would  open 
his  eyes.  She  laid  her  handkerchief  over  them  with  loving 
delicacy,  remembering  in  a  flash  that  her  own  face  had  been 
all  the  while  exposed  to  Mr.  George  Uploft;  and  then  the 
terrors  of  his  presence  at  Beckley  Court  came  upon  her, 
and  the  fact  that  she  had  not  for  the  last  ten  minutes  been 
the  serene  Countess  de  Saldar;  and  she  quite  hated  Andrew, 
for  vulgarity  in  others  evoked  vulgarity  in  her,  which  was 
the  reason  why  she  ranked  vulgarity  as  the  chief  of  the 
deadly  sins.  Her  countenance  for  Harry  and  all  the  others 
save  poor  Andrew  was  soon  the  placid  heaven-confiding  sis- 
ter's again;  not  before  Lady  Jocelyn  had  found  cause  to 
observe  to  Drummond: 

"Your  Countess  doesn't  ruffle  well." 

But  a  lady  who  is  at  war  with  two  or  three  of  the  facts 
of  Providence,  and  yet  will  have  Providence  for  her  ally, 
can  hardly  ruffle  well. 

Do  not  imagine  that  the  Countess's  love  for  her  brother 
was  hollow.  She  was  assured  when  she  came  up  to  the 
spot  where  he  fell,  that  there  was  no  danger;  he  had  but 
dislocated  his  shoulder,  and  bruised  his  head  a  little. 
Hearing  this,  she  rose  out  of  her  clamorous  heart,  and 
seized  the  opportunity  for  a  small  burst  of  melodrama. 
Unhappily,  Lady  Jocelyn,  who  gave  the  tone  to  the  rest, 
was  a  Spartan  in  matters  of  this  sort;  and  as  she  would 
have  seen  those  dearest  to  her  bear  the  luck  of  the  field, 
she  could  see  others.  When  the  call  for  active  help  reached 
her,  you  beheld  a  different  woman. 

The  demonstrativeness  the  Countess  thirsted  for  was 
afforded  her  by  Juley  Bonner,  and  in  a  measure  by  her 
sister  Caroline,  who  loved  Evan  passionately.  The  latter 
was  in  riding  attire,  about  to  mount  to  ride  and  meet  them, 
accompanied  by  the  Duke.  Caroline  had  hastily  tied  up 
her  hair;  a  rich  golden  brown  lump  of  it  hung  round  her 
cheek;  her  limpid  eyes  and  anxiously-nerved  brows  im- 
pressed the  Countess  wonderfully  as  she  ran  down  the 
steps  and  bent  her  fine  well-filled  bust  forward  to  ask  the 
first  hurried  question. 


rRIBULATIONS,    ETC.,    OF   THE  COUNTESS         217 

The  Countess  patted  her  shoulder.  "Safe,  dear,"  she 
said  aloud,  as  one  who  would  not  make  much  of  it.  And 
in  a  whisper,  "You  look  superb." 

I  must  charge  it  to  Caroline's  beauty  under  the  ducal 
radiance,  that  a  stream  of  sweet  feelings  entering  into  the 
Countess  made  her  forget  to  tell  her  sister  that  George 
Uploft  was  by.  Caroline  had  not  been  abroad,  and  her 
skin  was  not  olive-hued;  she  was  a  beauty,  and  a  majestic 
figure,  little  altered  since  the  day  when  the  wooden  marine 
marched  her  out  of  Lymport. 

The  Countess  stepped  from  the  carriage  to  go  and  cherish 
Juliana's  petulant  distress;  for  that  unhealthy  little  body 
was  stamping  with  impatience  to  have  the  story  told  to  her, 
to  burst  into  fits  of  pathos ;  and  while  Seymour  and  Harry 
assisted  Evan  to  descend,  trying  to  laugh  off  the  pain  he 
endured,  Caroline  stood  by,  soothing  him  with  words  and 
tender  looks. 

Lady  Jocelyn  passed  him,  and  took  his  hand,  saying, 
"Not  killed  this  time!" 

"At  your  ladyship's  service  to-morrow,"  he  replied,  and 
his  hand  was  kindly  squeezed. 

"My  darling  Evan,  you  will  not  ride  again?"  Caroline 
cried,  kissing  him  on  the  steps ;  and  the  Duke  watched  the 
operation,  and  the  Countess  observed  the  Duke. 

That  Providence  should  select  her  sweetest  moments  to 
deal  her  wounds,  was  cruel ;  but  the  Countess  just  then  dis- 
tinctly heard  Mr.  George  Uploft  ask  Miss  Carrington :  "  Is 
that  lady  a  Harrington?" 

"  You  perceive  a  likeness  ?  "  was  the  answer. 
Mr.  George  went  "Whew!  —  tit  —  tit  —  tit!"   with  the 
profound  expression  of  a  very  slow  mind. 

The  scene  was  quickly  over.  There  was  barely  an  hour 
for  the  ladies  to  dress  for  dinner.  Leaving  Evan  in  the 
doctor's  hand,  and  telling  Caroline  to  dress  in  her  room,  the 
Countess  met  Rose,  and  gratified  her  vindictiveness,  while 
she  furthered  her  projects,  by  saying: 

"  Not  till  my  brother  is  quite  convalescent  will  it  be  advis- 
able that  you  should  visit  him.  I  am  compelled  to  think  of 
him  entirely  now.  In  his  present  state  he  is  not  fit  to  be 
played  with." 

Rose,  steadfastly  eyeing  her,  seemed  to  swallow  down 
something  in  her  throat,  and  said : 


218  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"  I  will  obey  you,  Countess.  I  hoped  you  would  allow  me 
to  nurse  him," 

"  Quiet  above  all  things,  Rose  Jocelyn ! "  returned  the 
Countess,  with  the  suavity  of  a  governess,  who  must  be  civil 
in  her  sourness.  "  If  you  would  not  complete  this  morning's 
achievement  —  stay  away." 

The  Countess  declined  to  see  that  Rose's  lip  quivered.  She 
saw  an  unpleasantness  in  the  bottom  of  her  eyes ;  and  now 
that  her  brother's  decease  was  not  even  remotely  to  be  appre- 
hended, she  herself  determined  to  punish  the  cold,  unimpres- 
sionable coquette  of  a  girl.  Before  returning  to  Caroline, 
she  had  five  minutes'  conversation  with  Juliana,  which  fully 
determined  her  to  continue  the  campaign  at  Beckley  Court, 
commence  decisive  movements,  and  not  to  retreat,  though 
fifty  George  Uplofts  menaced  her.  Consequently,  having 
dismissed  Conning  on  a  message  to  Harry  Jocelyn,  to  ask 
him  for  a  list  of  the  names  of  the  new  people  they  were  to 
meet  that  day  at  dinner,  she  said  to  Caroline : 

"  My  dear,  I  think  it  will  be  incumbent  on  us  to  depart 
very  quickly." 

Much  to  the  Countess's  chagrin  and  astonishment,  Caroline 
replied : 

"  I  ^hall  hardly  be  sorry." 

"Not  sorry?  Why,  what  now,  dear  one?  Is  it  true, 
then,  that  a  flagellated  female  kisses  the  rod  ?  Are  you  so 
eager  for  a  repetition  of  Strike  f  " 

Caroline,  with  some  hesitation,  related  to  her  more  than 
the  Countess  had  ventured  to  petition  for  in  her  prayers. 

"Oh!  how  exceedingly  generous !"  the  latter  exclaimed. 
"  How  very  refreshing  to  think  that  there  are  nobles  in  your 
England  as  romantic,  as  courteous,  as  delicate  as  our  own 
foreign  ones  !  But  his  Grace  is  quite  an  exceptional  noble- 
man.    Are  you  not  touched,  dearest  Carry  ?  " 

Caroline  pensively  glanced  at  the  reflection  of  her  beauti- 
ful arm  in  the  glass,  and  sighed,  pushing  back  the  hair  from 
her  temples, 

"  But,  for  mercy's  sake ! "  resumed  the  Countess,  in  alarm 
at  the  sigh,  "  do  not  be  too  —  too  touched.  Do,  pray,  pre- 
serve your  wits.  You  weep!  Caroline,  Caroline!  O  my 
goodness ;  it  is  just  five-and-twenty  minutes  to  the  first 
dinner-bell,  and  you  are  crying  1     For  God's  sake,  think  of 


TRIBULATIONS,   ETC.,   OF   THE   COUNTESS         219 

your  face !  Are  you  going  to  be  a  Gorgon  ?  And  you  show 
the  marks  twice  as  long  as  any  other,  you  fair  women. 
Squinnying  like  this !  Caroline,  for  your  Louisa's  sake, 
do  not!" 

Hissing  which,  half  angrily  and  half  with  entreaty,  the 
Countess  dropped  on  her  knees.  Caroline's  fit  of  tears  sub- 
sided. The  eldest  of  the  sisters,  she  was  the  kindest,  the 
fairest,  the  weakest. 

"Not,"  said  the  blandishing  Countess,  when  Caroline's 
face  was  clearer,  "  not  that  my  best  of  Carrys  does  not  look 
delicious  in  her  shower.  Cry,  with  your  hair  down,  and  you 
would  subdue  any  male  creature  on  two  legs.  And  that 
reminds  me  of  that  most  audacious  Marquis  de  Kemilla.  He 
saw  a  dirty  drab  of  a  fruit-girl  crying  in  Lisbon  streets  one 
day,  as  he  was  riding  in  the  carriage  of  the  Duchesse  de  Col 
da  Rosta,  and  her  husband  and  duena,  and  he  had  a  letter  for 
her  —  the  Duchesse.  They  loved !  How  deliver  the  letter  ? 
'  Save  me ! '  he  cried  to  the  Duchesse,  catching  her  hand, 
and  pressing  his  heart,  as  if  very  sick.  The  Duchesse  felt 
the  paper  —  turned  her  hand  over  on  her  knee,  and  he  with- 
drew his.  What  does  my  Carry  think  was  the  excuse  he 
tendered  the  Duke  ?  This  —  and  this  gives  you  some  idea 
of  the  wonderful  audacity  of  those  dear  Portuguese  —  that  he 
— he  must  precipitate  himself  and  marry  any  woman  he  saw 
weep,  and  be  her  slave  for  the  term  of  his  natural  life,  unless 
another  woman's  hand  at  the  same  moment  restrained  him ! 
There ! "  and  the  Countess's  eyes  shone  brightly. 

"  How  excessively  imbecile ! "  Caroline  remarked,  hith- 
erto a  passive  listener  to  these  Lusitanian  contes. 

It  was  the  first  sign  she  had  yet  given  of  her  late  inter- 
course with  a  positive  Duke,  and  the  Countess  felt  it,  and 
drew  back.  No  more  anecdotes  for  Caroline,  to  whom  she 
quietly  said : 

"  You  are  very  English,  dear !  " 

"But  now,  the  Duke  —  his  Grace,"  she  went  on,  "how 
did  he  inaugurate  ?  " 

"  I  spoke  to  him  of  Evan's  position.  God  forgive  me !  — ■ 
I  said  that  was  the  cause  of  my  looks  being  sad." 

"  You  could  have  thought  of  nothing  better,"  interposed 
the  Countess.     "  Yes  ?  " 

"  He  said,  if  he  might  clear  them  he  should  be  happy." 


220  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

•    "  In  exquisite  language,  Carry,  of  course." 

"No;  just  as  others  talk." 

"  Hum ! "  went  the  Countess,  and  issued  again  brightly 
from  a  cloud  of  reflection,  with  the  remark :  "  It  was  to 
seem  business-like  —  the  commerciality  of  the  English  mind. 
To  the  point  —  I  know.  Well,  you  perceive,  my  sweetest, 
that  Evan's  interests  are  in  your  hands.  You  dare  not  quit 
the  field.  In  one  week,  I  fondly  trust,  he  will  be  secure. 
What  more  did  his  Grace  say  ?  May  we  not  be  the  reposi- 
tory of  such  delicious  secrecies  ?  " 

Caroline  gave  tremulous  indications  "about  the  lips,  and 
the  Countess  jumped  to  the  bell  and  rang  it,  for  they  were 
too  near  dinner  for  the  trace  of  a  single  tear  to  be  permitted. 
The  bell  and  the  appearance  of  Conning  effectually  checked 
the  flood. 

While  speaking  to  her  sister,  the  Countess  had  hesitated 
to  mention  George  Uploft's  name,  hoping  that,  as  he  had  no 
dinner-suit,  he  would  not  stop  to  dinner  that  day,  and  would 
fall  to  the  charge  of  Lady  Roseley  once  more.  Conning, 
however,  brought  in  a  sheet  of  paper  on  which  the  names  of 
the  guests  were  written  out  by  Harry,  a  daily  piece  of  ser- 
vice he  performed  for  the  captivating  dame,  and  George 
Uploft's  name  was  in  the  list. 

"We  will  do  the  rest.  Conning  —  retire,"  she  said,  and 
then  folding  Caroline  in  her  arms,  murmured,  the  moment 
they  were  alone,  "  Will  my  Carry  dress  her  hair  plain  to- 
day, for  the  love  of  her  Louisa  ?  " 

"  Goodness !  what  a  request ! "  exclaimed  Caroline,  throw- 
ing back  her  head  to  see  if  her  Louisa  could  be  serious. 

"  Most  inexplicable  —  is  it  not  ?     Will  she  do  it  ?  " 

"  Flat,  dear  ?     It  makes  a  fright  of  me." 

"  Possibly.     May  I  beg  it  ?  " 

"  But  why,  dearest,  why  ?     If  I  only  knew  why  I " 

"  For  the  love  of  your  Louy." 

"  Plain  along  the  temples  ?  " 

"  And  a  knot  behind." 

"  And  a  band  along  the  forehead  ?  " 

"  Gems,  if  they  meet  your  favour." 

"  But  my  cheek-bones,  Louisa  ?  " 

"  They  are  not  too  prominent,  Carry." 

"Curls  relieve  them." 


TKIBULATIONS,   ETC.,    OF  THE  COUNTESS         221 

"  The  change  will  relieve  the  curls,  dear  one." 

Caroline  looked  in  the  glass,  at  the  Countess,  as  polished 
a  reflector,  and  fell  into  a  chair.  Her  hair  was  accustomed 
to  roll  across  her  shoulders  in  heavy  curls.  The  Duke  would 
find  a  change  of  the  sort  singular.  She  should  not  at  all 
know  herself  with  her  hair  done  differently :  and  for  a 
lovely  woman  to  be  transformed  to  a  fright  is  hard  to  bear 
in  solitude,  or  in  imagination. 

"  Really ! "  she  petitioned. 

"Really  —  yes,  or  no?"  added  the  Countess. 

"  So  unaccountable  a  whim ! "  Caroline  looked  in  the  glass 
dolefully,  and  pulled  up  her  thick  locks  from  one  cheek, 
letting  them  fall  on  the  instant. 

"  She  will  ?  "  breathed  the  Countess. 

"  I  really  cannot,"  said  Caroline,  with  vehemence. 

The  Countess  burst  into  laughter,  replying:  "My  poor 
child !  it  is  not  my  whim  —  it  is  your  obligation.  George 
Uploft  dines  here  to-day.  Now  do  you  divine  it  ?  Disguise 
is  imperative  for  you." 

Mrs.  Strike,  gazing  in  her  sister's  face,  answered  slowly, 

"  George  ? But  how  will  you  meet  him  ?  "  she  hurriedly 

asked. 

"  I  have  met  him,"  rejoined  the  Countess,  boldly.  "  I 
defy  him  to  know  me.  I  brazen  him !  You  with  your  hair 
in  my  style  are  equally  safe.  You  see  there  is  no  choice. 
Pooh !  contemptible  puppy !  " 

"But  I  never,"  —  Caroline  was  going  to  say  she  never 
could  face  him.     "  I  will  not  dine.     I  will  nurse  Evan." 

"  You  have  faced  him,  my  dear,"  said  the  Countess,  "  and 
you  are  to  change  your  head-dress  simply  to  throw  him  off 
his  scent." 

As  she  spoke  the  Countess  tripped  about,  nodding  her 
head  like  a  girl.  Triumph  in  the  sense  of  her  power  over 
all  she  came  in  contact  with,  rather  elated  the  lady. 

Do  you  see  why  she  worked  her  sister  in  this  roundabout 
fashion  ?  She  would  not  tell  her  George  Uploft  was  in  the 
house  till  she  was  sure  he  intended  to  stay,  for  fear  of 
frightening  her.  When  the  necessity  became  apparent,  she 
put  it  under  the  pretext  of  a  whim  in  order  to  see  how  far 
Caroline,  whose  weak  compliance  she  could  count  on,  and 
whose  reticence  concerning  the  Duke  annoyed  her,  would 


222  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

submit  to  it  to  please  her  sister ;  and  if  she  rebelled  posi- 
tively, why  to  be  sure  it  was  the  Duke  she  dreaded  to  shock : 
and,  therefore,  the  Duke  had  a  peculiar  hold  on  her ;  and, 
therefore,  the  Countess  might  reckon  that  she  would  do 
more  than  she  pleased  to  confess  to  remain  with  the  Duke, 
and  was  manageable  in  that  quarter.  All  this  she  learnt 
without  asking.  I  need  not  add,  that  Caroline  sighingly  did 
her  bidding. 

"We  must  all  be  victims  in  our  turn.  Carry,"  said  the 
Countess.  "Evan's  prospects  —  it  may  be,  Silva's  restora- 
tion—  depend  upon  your  hair  being  dressed  plain  to-day. 
Reflect  on  that ! " 

Poor  Caroline  obeyed ;  but  she  was  capable  of  reflecting 
only  that  her  face  was  unnaturally  lean  and  strange  to 
her. 

The  sisters  tended  and  arranged  one  another,  taking  care 
to  push  their  mourning  a  month  or  two  a^head :  and  the 
Countess  animadverted  on  the  vulgar  mind  of  Lady  Joce- 
lyn,  who  would  allow  a  "  gentleman  to  sit  down  at  a  gentle- 
woman's table,  in  full  company,  in  pronounced  undress:" 
and  Caroline,  utterly  miserable,  would  pretend  that  she 
wore  a  mask  and  kept  grimacing  as  they  do  who  are  not 
accustomed  to  paint  on  the  cheeks,  till  the  Countess  checked 
her  by  telling  her  she  should  ask  her  for  that  before  the 
Duke. 

After  a  visit  to  Evan,  the  sisters  sailed  together  into  the 
drawing-room. 

"  Uniformity  is  sometimes  a  gain,"  murmured  the  Coun- 
tess, as  they  were  parting  in  the  middle  of  the  room.  She 
saw  that  their  fine  figures,  and  profiles,  and  resemblance  in 
contrast,  produced  an  effect.  The  Duke  wore  one  of  those 
calmly  intent  looks  by  which  men  show  they  are  aware  of 
change  in  the  heavens  they  study,  and  are  too  devout  wor- 
shippers to  presume  to  disapprove.  Mr.  George  was  stand- 
ing by  Miss  Carrington,  and  he  also  watched  Mrs.  Strike. 
To  bewilder  him  yet  more  the  Countess  persisted  in  fixing 
her  eyes  upon  his  heterodox  apparel,  and  Mr.  George  be- 
came conscious  and  uneasy.  Miss  Carrington  had  to  address 
her  question  to  him  twice  before  he  heard.  Melville  Joce- 
lyn.  Sir  John  Loring,  Sir  Franks,  and  Hamilton  surrounded 
the  Countess,  and  told  her  what  they  had  decided  on  with 


TRIBULATIONS,   ETC.,    OF   THE  COUNTESS         223 

regard  to  the  election  during  the  day;  for  Melville  was 
warm  in  his  assertion  that  they  would  not  talk  to  the  Count- 
ess five  minutes  without  getting  a  hint  worth  having. 

"  Call  to  us  that  man  who  is  habited  like  a  groom,"  said 
the  Countess,  indicating  Mr.  George.  "  I  presume  he  is  in 
his  right  place  up  here  ?  " 

"  Whew  —  take  care.  Countess  —  our  best  man.  He's  good 
for  a  dozen,"  said  Hamilton. 

Mr.  George  was  brought  over  and  introduced  to  the 
Countess  de  Saldar. 

"  So  the  oldest  Tory  in  the  county  is  a  fox  ?  "  she  said,  in 
allusion  to  the  hunt.  Never  did  Caroline  Strike  admire  her 
sister's  fearful  genius  more  than  at  that  moment. 

Mr.  George  ducked  and  rolled  his  hand  over  his  chin, 
with  "  ah-um !  "  and  the  like,  ended  by  a  dry  laugh. 

"  Are  you  our  supporter,  Mr.  Uplof t  ?  " 

"Tory  interest,  marum — my  lady." 

"  And  are  you  staunch  and  may  be  trusted  ?  " 

"  'Pon  my  honour,  I  think  I  have  that  reputation." 

"And  you  would  not  betray  us  if  we  give  you  any 
secrets  ?  Say  '  'Pon  my  honour,'  again.  You  launch  it  out 
so  courageously." 

The  men  laughed,  though  they  could  not  see  what  the 
Countess  was  driving  at.  She  had  for  two  minutes  spoken 
as  she  spoke  when  a  girl,  and  George  —  entirely  off  his 
guard  and  unsuspicious  —  looked  unenlightened.  If  he 
knew,  there  were  hints  enough  for  him  in  her  words.  If 
he  remained  blind,  they  might  pass  as  air.  The  ap'pearance 
of  the  butler  cut  short  his  protestation  as  to  his  powers  of 
secrecy. 

The  Countess  dismissed  him. 

"  You  will  be  taken  into  our  confidence  when  we  require 
you."  And  she  resumed  her  foreign  air  in  a  most  elaborate 
and  overwhelming  bow. 

She  was  now  perfectly  satisfied  that  she  was  safe  from 
Mr.  George,  and,  as  she  thoroughly  detested  the  youthful 
squire,  she  chose  to  propagate  a  laugh  at  him  by  saying, 
with  the  utmost  languor  and  clearness  of  voice,  as  they 
descended  the  stairs : 

"  After  all,  a  very  clever  fox  may  be  a  very  dull  dog  — 
don't  you  think  ?  " 


224  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

Gentlemen  in  front  of  her,  and  behind,  heard  it,  and  at 
Mr.  George's  expense  her  reputation  rose. 

Thus  the  genius  of  this  born  general  prompted  her  to 
adopt  the  principle  in  tactics  —  boldly  to  strike  when  you 
are  in  the  dark  as  to  your  enemy's  movements. 


CHAPTER  XXII 

IN  WHICH    THE    DAUGHTERS    OF    THE    GREAT  MEL   HAVE  TO 
DIGEST   HIM   AT   DINNER 

You  must  know,  if  you  would  form  an  estimate  of  the 
Countess's  heroic  impudence,  that  a  rumour  was  current  in 
Lymport  that  the  fair  and  well-developed  Louisa  Harring- 
ton, in  her  sixteenth  year,  did  advisedly,  and  with  the  inten- 
tion of  rendering  the  term  indefinite,  entrust  her  guileless 
person  to  Mr.  George  Uploft's  honourable  charge.  The 
rumour,  unflavoured  by  absolute  malignity,  was  such;  and 
it  went  on  to  say,  that  the  sublime  Mel,  alive  to  the  honour 
of  his  family,  followed  the  fugitives  with  a  pistol,  and  with 
a  horsewhip,  that  he  might  chastise  the  offender  according 
to  the  degree  of  his  offence.  It  was  certain  that  he  had  not 
used  the  pistol:  it  was  said  that  he  had  used  the  whip. 
The  details  of  the  interview  between  Mel  and  Mr.  George 
were  numerous,  but  at  the  same  time  various.  Some  de- 
clared that  he  put  a  pistol  to  Mr.  George's  ear,  and  under 
pressure  of  that  persuader  got  him  into  the  presence  of  a 
clergyman,  when  he  turned  sulky;  and  when  the  pistol  was 
again  produced,  the  ceremony  would  have  been  performed, 
had  not  the  outraged  Church  cried  out  for  help.  Some 
vowed  that  Mr.  George  had  referred  all  questions  implying 
a  difference  between  himself  and  Mel  to  their  mutual  fists 
for  decision.  At  any  rate,  Mr.  George  turned  up  in  Fallow- 
field  subsequently  ;  the  fair  Louisa,  unhurt  and  with  a  quiet 
mind,  in  Lymport ;  and  this  amount  of  truth  the  rumours 
can  be  reduced  to  —  that  Louisa  and  Mr.  George  had  been 
acquainted.  Rumour  and  gossip  know  how  to  build  :  they 
always  have  some  solid  foundation,  however  small. 


THE  DINNER  225 

Upwards  of  twelve  years  had  run  since  Louisa  went  to 
the  wife  of  the  brewer  —  a  period  quite  long  enough  for  Mr. 
George  to  forget  any  one  in ;  and  she  was  altogether  a  dif- 
ferent creature ;  and,  as  it  was  true  that  Mr.  George  was 
a  dull  one,  she  was,  after  the  test  she  had  put  him  to,  justi- 
fied in  hoping  that  Mel's  progeny  might  pass  unchallenged 
anywhere  out  of  Lymport.  So,  with  Mr.  George  facing  her 
at  table,  the  Countess  sat  down,  determined  to  eat  and  be 
happy. 

A  man  with  the  education  and  tastes  of  a  young  country 
squire  is  not  likely  to  know  much  of  the  character  of  women ; 
and  of  the  marvellous  power  they  have  of  throwing  a  veil 
of  oblivion  between  themselves  and  what  they  don't  want  to 
remember,  few  men  know  much.  Mr.  George  had  thought, 
when  he  saw  Mrs.  Strike  leaning  to  Evan,  and  heard  she 
was  a  Harrington,  that  she  was  rather  like  the  Lymport 
family ;  but  the  reappearance  of  Mrs.  Strike,  the  attention 
of  the  Duke  of  Belfield  to  her,  and  the  splendid  tactics  of 
the  Countess,  which  had  extinguished  every  thought  in  the 
thought  of  himself,  drove  Lymport  out  of  his  mind. 

There  were  some  dinner  guests  at  the  table  —  people  of 
Fallowfield,  Beckley,  and  Bodley.  The  Countess  had  the 
diplomatist  on  one  side,  the  Duke  on  the  other.  Caroline 
was  under  the  charge  of  Sir  Franks.  The  Countess,  almost 
revelling  in  her  position  opposite  Mr,  George,  was  ambi- 
tious to  lead  the  conversation,  and  commenced,  smiling  at 
Melville : 

"  We  are  to  be  spared  politics  to-day  ?  I  think  politics 
and  cookery  do  not  assimilate." 

"  I'm  afraid  you  won't  teach  the  true  Briton  to  agree  with 
you,"  said  Melville,  shaking  his  head  over  the  sums  involved 
by  this  British  propensity. 

"  No,"  said  Seymour.  "  Election  dinners  are  a  part  of  the 
Constitution :  "  and  Andrew  laughed :  "  They  make  Kadi- 
cals  pay  as  well  as  Tories,  so  it's  pretty  square." 

The  topic  was  taken  up,  flagged,  fell,  and  was  taken  up 
again.     And  then  Harry  Jocelyn  said : 

"  I  say,  have  you  worked  the  flags  yet  ?  The  great  Mel 
must  have  his  flags." 

The  flags  were  in  the  hands  of  ladies,  and  ladies  would 
look  to  the  rosettes,  he  was  told. 


226  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Then  a  lady  of  the  name  of  Barrington  laughed  lightly, 
and  said : 

"Only,  pray,  my  dear  Harry,  don't  call  your  uncle  the 
'Great  Mel'  at  the  election." 

"  Oh !  very  well,"  quoth  Harry :  "  why  not  ?  " 

«  You'll  get  him  laughed  at  —  that's  all." 

"  Oh !  well,  then,  I  won't,"  said  Harry,  whose  wits  were 
attracted  by  the  Countess's  visage. 

Mrs.  Barrington  turned  to  Seymour,  her  neighbour,  and 
resumed : 

"  He  really  would  be  laughed  at.  There  was  a  tailor  — 
he  was  called  the  Great  Mel  —  and  he  tried  to  stand  for  Fal- 
lowfield  once.  I  believe  he  had  the  support  of  Squire  Up- 
lof t  —  George's  uncle  —  and  others.  They  must  have  done 
it  for  fun !  Of  course  he  did  not  get  so  far  as  the  hustings ; 
but  I  believe  he  had  flags,  and  principles,  and  all  sorts  of 
things  worked  ready.     He  certainly  canvassed." 

"A  tailor  —  canvassed  —  for  Parliament?"  remarked  an 
old  Dowager,  the  mother  of  Squire  Copping.  "  My !  what 
are  we  coming  to  next  ?  " 

"  He  deserved  to  get  in,"  quoth  Aunt  Bel :  "  After 
having  his  principles  worked  ready,  to  eject  the  man  was 
infamous." 

Amazed  at  the  mine  she  had  sprung,  the  Countess  sat 
through  it,  lamenting  the  misery  of  owning  a  notorious 
father.  Happily  Evan  was  absent,  on  his  peaceful  blessed 
bed! 

Bowing  over  wine  with  the  Duke,  she  tried  another 
theme,  while  still,  like  a  pertinacious  cracker,  the  Great 
Mel  kept  banging  up  and  down  the  table. 

"  We  are  to  have  a  feast  in  the  open  air,  I  hear.  What 
you  call  pic-nic." 

The  Duke  believed  there  was  a  project  of  the  sort. 

"  How  exquisitely  they  do  those  things  in  Portugal !  I 
suppose  there  would  be  no  scandal  in  my  telling  something 
now.     At  least  we  are  out  of  Court-jurisdiction." 

"  Scandal  of  the  Court ! "  exclaimed  his  Grace,  in  mock 
horror. 

"  The  option  is  yours  to  listen.  The  Queen,  when  yoimg, 
was  sweetly  pretty ;  a  divine  complexion ;  and  a  habit  of 
smiling  on  everybody.     I  presume  that  the  young  Habral, 


THE   DINNER  227 

son  of  the  first  magistrate  of  Lisbon,  was  also  smiled  on. 
Most  innocently,  I  would  SAvear !  But  it  operated  on  the 
wretched  youth !  He  spent  all  his  fortune  in  the  purchase 
and  decoration  of  a  fairy  villa,  bordering  on  the  Val  das 
Rosas,  where  the  Court  enjoyed  its  rustic  festivities,  and 
one  day  a  storm  !  all  the  ladies  hurried  their  young  mistress 
to  the  house  where  the  young  Habral  had  been  awaiting  her 
for  ages.  None  so  polished  as  he !  Musicians  started  up, 
the  floors  were  ready,  and  torches  beneath  them  !  —  there 
was  a  feast  of  exquisite  wines  and  viands  sparkling.  Quite 
enchantment.  The  girl-Queen  was  in  ecstasies.  She  deigned 
a  dance  with  the  young  Habral,  and  then  all  sat  down  to 
supper ;  and  in  the  middle  of  it  came  the  cry  of  Fire !  The 
Queen  shrieked;  the  flames  were  seen  all  around;  and  if 
the  arms  of  the  young  Habral  were  opened  to  save  her,  or 
perish,  could  she  cast  a  thought  on  Royalty,  and  refuse  ? 
The  Queen  was  saved,  the  villa  was  burnt ;  the  young  Habral 
was  ruined,  but,  if  /  know  a  Portuguese,  he  was  happy  till 
he  died,  and  well  remunerated !  For  he  had  held  a  Queen 
to  his  heart !     So  that  was  a  pic-nic !  " 

The  Duke  slightly  inclined  his  head. 

"  Vrai  Portughez  derrendo,"  he  said.  "  They  tell  a  similar 
story  in  Spain,  of  one  of  the  Queens — I  forget  her  name. 
The  difference  between  us  and  your  Peninsular  cavaliers  is, 
that  we  wo\ild  do  as  much  for  uncrowned  ladies." 

"  Ah !  your  Grace !  "  The  Countess  swam  in  the  pleasure 
of  a  nobleman's  compliment. 

"  What's  the  story  ?  "  interposed  Aunt  Bel. 

An  outline  of  it  was  given  her.  Thank  heaven,  the  table 
was  now  rid  of  the  Great  Mel.  For  how  could  he  have  any, 
the  remotest  relation  with  Queens  and  Peninsular  pic-nics  ? 
You  shall  hear. 

Lady  Jocelyn  happened  to  catch  a  word  or  two  of  the 
story. 

"  Why,"  said  she,  "  that's  English  !  Franks,  you  remem- 
ber the  ballet  divertissement  they  improvised  at  the  Bodley 
race-ball,  when  the  magnificent  footman  fired  a  curtain  and 
caught  up  Lady  Roseley,  and  carried  her  —  " 

"  Heaven  knows  where !  "  cried  Sir  Franks.  "  I  remember 
it  perfectly.  It  was  said  that  the  magnificent  footman  did 
it  on  purpose  to  have  that  pleasure." 


228  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"Ay,  of  course,"  Hamilton  took  him  up.  "They  talked 
of  prosecuting  the  magnificent  footman." 

"Ay,"  followed  Seymour,  "and  nobody  could  tell  where 
the  magnificent  footman  bolted.    He  vanished  into  thin  air." 

"  Ay,  of  course,"  Melville  struck  in ;  "  and  the  magic  en- 
veloped the  lady  for  some  time." 

At  this  point  Mr.  George  Uploft  gave  a  horse-laugh.  He 
jerked  in  his  seat  excitedly. 

"  Bodley  race-ball ! "  he  cried ;  and  looking  at  Lady 
Jocelyn :  "  Was  your  ladyship  there,  then  ?  Why  —  ha ! 
ha !  why,  you  have  seen  the  Great  Mel,  then !  That  tre- 
mendous footman  was  old  Mel  himself ! " 

Lady  Jocelyn  struck  both  her  hands  on  the  table,  and 
rested  her  large  grey  eyes,  full  of  humorous  surprise,  on 
Mr.  George. 

There  was  a  pause,  and  then  the  ladies  and  gentlemen 
laughed. 

"Yes,"  Mr.  George  went  on,  "that  was  old  Mel.  I'll 
swear  to  him." 

"  And  that's  how  it  began  ?  "  murmured  Lady  Jocelyn. 

Mr.  George  nodded  at  his  plate  discreetly. 

"  Well,"  said  Lady  Jocelyn,  leaning  back,  and  lifting  her 
face  upward  in  the  discursive  fulness  of  her  fancy,  "  I  feel 
I  am  not  robbed.  II  y  a  des  miracles,  et  j'en  ai  vue.  One's 
life  seems  more  perfect  when  one  has  seen  what  nature  can 
do.  The  fellow  was  stupendous !  I  conceive  him  present. 
Who'll  fire  a  house  for  me  ?  Is  it  my  deficiency  of  attrac- 
tion, or  a  total  dearth  of  gallant  snobs  ?  " 

The  Countess  was  drowned.  The  muscles  of  her  smiles 
were  horribly  stiff  and  painful.  Caroline  was  getting  pale. 
Could  it  be  accident  that  thus  resuscitated  Mel,  their  father, 
and  would  not  let  the  dead  man  die  ?  Was  not  malice  at 
the  bottom  of  it?  The  Countess,  though  she  hated  Mr. 
George  infinitely,  was  clear-headed  enough  to  see  that  Provi- 
dence alone  was  trying  her.  No  glances  were  exchanged 
between  him  and  Laxley,  or  Drummond. 

Again  Mel  returned  to  his  peace,  and  again  he  had  to 
come  forth. 

"Who  was  this  singular  man  you  were  speaking  about 
just  now  ?  "  Mrs.  Evremonde  asked. 

Lady  Jocelyn  answered  her :  "  The  light  of  his  age.     The 


THE  DINNER  229 

embodied  protest  against  our  social  prejudice.  Combine  — 
say,  Mirabeau  and  Alcibiades,  and  the  result  is  the  Lymport 
Tailor :  —  he  measures  your  husband  in  the  morning :  in  the 
evening  he  makes  love  to  you,  through  a  series  of  panto- 
mimic transformations.  He  was  a  colossal  Adonis,  and  I'm 
sorry  he's  dead !  " 

"But  did  the  man  get  into  society?"  said  Mrs.  Evre- 
monde.     "  How  did  he  manage  that  ?  " 

"  Yes,  indeed !  and  what  sort  of  a  society ! "  the  dowager 
Copping  interjected.  "None  but  bachelor-tables,  I  can 
assure  you.  Oh !  I  remember  him.  They  talked  of  fetch- 
ing him  to  Dox  Hall.  I  said,  No,  thank  you,  Tom ;  this 
isn't  your  Vauxhall." 

"  A  sharp  retort,"  said  Lady  Jocelyn,  "  a  most  conclusive 
rhyme ;  but  you're  mistaken.  Many  families  were  glad  to 
see  him,  I  hear.  And  he  only  consented  to  be  treated  like 
a  footman  when  he  dressed  like  one.  The  fellow  had  some 
capital  points.  He  fought  two  or  three  duels,  and  behaved 
like  a  man.  Franks  wouldn't  have  him  here,  or  I  would 
have  received  him.  I  hear  that,  as  a  conteur,  he  was  inimi- 
table. In  short,  hB  was  a  robust  Brummel,  and  the  Eegent 
of  low  life." 

This  should  have  been  Mel's  final  epitaph. 

Unhappily,  Mrs.  Melville  would  remark,  in  her  mincing 
manner,  that  the  idea  of  the  admission  of  a  tailor  into  society 
seemed  very  unnatural ;  and  Aunt  Bel  confessed  that  her 
experience  did  not  comprehend  it. 

"As  to  that,"  said  Lady  Jocelyn,  "phenomena  are  un- 
natural. The  rules  of  society  are  lightened  by  the  excep- 
tions. What  I  like  in  this  Mel  is,  that  though  he  was  a 
snob,  and  an  impostor,  he  could  still  make  himself  respected 
by  his  betters.  He  was  honest,  so  far ;  he  acknowledged  his 
tastes,  which  were  those  of  Franks,  Melville,  Seymour,  and 
George  —  the  tastes  of  a  gentleman.  I  prefer  him  infinitely 
to  your  cowardly  democrat,  who  barks  for  what  he  can't  get, 
and  is  generally  beastly.  In  fact,  I'm  not  sure  that  I  haven't 
a  secret  passion  for  the  great  tailor." 

"  After  all,  old  Mel  wasn't  so  bad,"  Mr.  George  Uploft 
chimed  in.  "  Granted  a  tailor  —  you  didn't  see  a  bit  of  it  at 
table.  I've  known  him  taken  for  a  lord.  And  when  he  once 
got  hold  of  you,  you  couldn't  give  him  up.     The  squire  met 


230  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

him  first  in  the  coach,  one  winter.  He  took  him  for  a  Rus- 
sian nobleman  —  didn't  find  out  what  he  was  for  a  month  or 
so.  Says  Mel,  *  Yes,  I  make  clothes.  You  find  the  notion 
unpleasant ;  guess  how  disagreeable  it  is  to  me.'  The  old 
squire  laughed,  and  was  glad  to  have  him  at  Croftlands  as 
often  as  he  chose  to  come.  Old  Mel  and  I  used  to  spar 
sometimes ;  but  he's  gone,  and  I  should  like  to  shake  his  fist 
again." 

Then  Mr.  George  told  the  '  Bath '  story,  and  episodes  in 
Mel's  career  as  Marquis ;  and  while  he  held  the  ear  of  the 
table.  Rose,  who  had  not  spoken  a  word,  and  had  scarcely 
eaten  a  morsel  during  dinner,  studied  the  sisters  with  serious 
eyes.  Only  when  she  turned  them  from  the  Countess  to 
Mrs.  Strike,  they  were  softened  by  a  shadowy  drooping  of 
the  eyelids,  as  if  for  some  reason  she  deeply  pitied  that 
lady. 

Next  to  Rose  sat  Drummond,  with  a  face  expressive  of 
cynical  enjoyment.  He  devoted  uncommon  attention  to  the 
Countess,  whom  he  usually  shunned  and  overlooked.  He 
invited  her  to  exchange  bows  over  wine,  in  the  fashion  of 
that  day,  and  the  Countess  went  through  the  performance 
with  finished  grace  and  ease.  Poor  Andrew  had  all  the  time 
been  brushing  back  his  hair,  and  making  strange  depreca- 
tory sounds  in  his  throat,  like  a  man  who  felt  bound  to 
assure  everybody  at  table  he  was  perfectly  happy  and 
comfortable. 

"Material  enough  for  a  Sartoriad,"  said  Drummond  to 
Lady  Jocelyn. 

"Excellent.  Pray  write  it  forthwith,  Drummond,"  re- 
plied her  ladyship;  and  as  they  exchanged  talk  unintelli- 
gible to  the  Countess,  this  lady  observed  to  the  Duke : 

"  It  is  a  relief  to  have  buried  that  subject." 

The  Duke  smiled,  raising  an  eyebrow ;  but  the  persecuted 
Countess  perceived  she  had  been  much  too  hasty  when 
Drummond  added: 

"  I'll  make  a  journey  to  Lymport  in  a  day  or  two,  and 
master  his  history." 

"  Do,"  said  her  ladyship ;  and  flourishing  her  hand,  " '  I 
sing  the  Prince  of  Snobs ! ' " 

"  Oh,  if  it's  about  old  Mel,  I'll  sing  you  material  enough," 
said  Mr.  George.     "  There !  you  talk  of  it's  being  unnatursil, 


THE   DINNER  231 

his  dining  out  at  respectable  tables.  Why,  I  believe  — 
upon  my  honour,  I  believe  it's  a  fact  —  he's  supped  and 
thrown  dice  with  the  Regent." 

Lady  Jocelyn  clapped  her  hands.  "A  noble  culmination, 
Drummond !     The  man's  an  Epic ! " 

"  Well,  I  think  old  Mel  was  equal  to  it,"  Mr.  George  pur- 
sued. "  He  gave  me  pretty  broad  hints ;  and  this  is  how  it 
was,  if  it  really  happened,  you  know.  Old  Mel  had  a  friend ; 
some  say  he  was  more.  Well,  that  was  a  fellow,  a  great 
gambler.     I  dare  say  you've  heard  of  him  —  Burley  Bennet 

—  him  that  won  Eyelands  Park  of  one  of  the  royal  dukes 

—  died  worth  upwards  of  100,000?. ;  and  old  Mel  swore  he 
ought  to  have  had  it,  and  would  if  he  hadn't  somehow 
offended  him.  He  left  the  money  to  Admiral  Harrington, 
and  he  was  a  relation  of  Mel's." 

"  But  are  we  then  utterly  mixed  up  with  tailors  ? "  ex- 
claimed Mrs.  Barrington. 

"  Well,  those  are  the  facts,"  said  Mr.  George. 

The  wine  made  the  young  squire  talkative.  It  is  my 
belief  that  his  suspicions  were  not  awake  at  that  moment, 
and  that,  like  any  other  young  country  squire,  having  got  a 
subject  he  could  talk  on,  he  did  not  care  to  discontinue  it. 
The  Countess  was  past  the  effort  to  attempt  to  stop  him. 
She  had  work  enough  to  keep  her  smile  in  the  right 
place. 

Every  dinner  may  be  said  to  have  its  special  topic,  just 
as  every  age  has  its  marked  reputation.  They  are  put  up 
twice  or  thrice,  and  have  to  contend  with  minor  lights,  and 
to  swallow  them,  and  then  they  command  the  tongues  of 
men  and  flow  uninterruptedly.  So  it  was  with  the  great  Mel 
upon  this  occasion.  Curiosity  was  aroused  about  him. 
Aunt  Bel  agreed  with  Lady  Jocelyn  that  she  would  have 
liked  to  know  the  mighty  tailor.  Mrs.  Shorne  but  very 
imperceptibly  protested  against  the  notion,  and  from  one 
to  another  it  ran.  His  Grace  of  Belfield  expressed  positive 
approval  of  Mel  as  one  of  the  old  school. 

"  Si  ce  n'est  pas  le  gentilhomme,  au  moins,  c'est  le  gentil- 
homme  manque,"  said  Lady  Jocelyn,  "He  is  to  be  re- 
gretted, Duke.  You  are  right.  The  stuff  was  in  him,  but 
the  Fates  were  unkind.  I  stretch  out  my  hand  to  the 
pauvre  diable." 


232  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"  I  think  one  learns  more  from  the  mock  magnifico  than 
from  anything  else,"  observed  his  Grace. 

"  When  the  lion  saw  the  donkey  in  his  own  royal  skin," 
said  Aunt  Bel,  "  add  the  rhyme  at  your  discretion  —  he  was 
a  wiser  lion,  that's  all." 

"  And  the  ape  that  strives  to  copy  one  —  he's  an  animal 
of  judgement,"  said  Lady  Jocelyn.  "We  will  be  tolerant 
to  the  tailor,  and  the  Countess  must  not  set  us  down  as  a 
nation  of  shopkeepers :  philosophically  tolerant." 

The  Countess  started,  and  ran  a  little  broken  "  Oh ! " 
affably  out  of  her  throat,  dipped  her  lips  to  her  table- 
napkin,  and  resumed  her  smile. 

"  Yes,"  pursued  her  ladyship ;  "  old  Mel  stamps  the  age 
gone  by.  The  gallant  adventurer  tied  to  his  shop !  Alter- 
nate footman  and  marquis,  out  of  intermediate  tailor !  Isn't 
there  something  fine  in  his  buffoon  imitation  of  the  real 
thing  ?  I  feel  already  that  old  Mel  belongs  to  me.  Where 
is  the  great  man  buried  ?  Where  have  they  set  the  funeral 
brass  that  holds  his  mighty  ashes  ?  " 

Lady  Jocelyn's  humour  was  fully  entered  into  by  the 
men.  The  women  smiled  vacantly,  and  had  a  common 
thought  that  it  was  ill-bred  of  her  to  hold  forth  in  that  way 
at  table,  and  unfeminine  of  any  woman  to  speak  continu- 
ously anywhere. 

"  Oh,  come ! "  cried  Mr.  George,  who  saw  his  own  subject 
snapped  away  from  him  by  sheer  cleverness;  "old  Mel 
wasn't  only  a  buffoon,  my  lady,  you  know.  Old  Mel  had 
his  qualities.  He  was  as  much  a  '  no-nonsense '  fellow,  in 
his  way,  as  a  magistrate,  or  a  minister." 

"  Or  a  king,  or  a  constable,"  Aunt  Bel  helped  his  illus- 
tration. 

"  Or  a  prince,  a  poll-parrot,  a  Perigord-pie,"  added  Drum- 
mond,  whose  gravity  did  not  prevent  Mr.  George  from  seeing 
that  he  was  laughed  at. 

"  Well,  then,  now,  listen  to  this,"  said  Mr.  George,  leaning 
his  two  hands  on  the  table  resolutely.  Dessert  was  laid, 
and  with  a  full  glass  beside  him,  and  a  pear  to  peel,  he 
determined  to  be  heard. 

The  Countess's  eyes  went  mentally  up  to  the  vindictive 
heavens.  She  stole  a  glance  at  Caroline,  and  was  alarmed  at 
her  excessive  pallor.   Providence  had  rescued  Evan  from  this ! 


THE  DINNER  233 

"Now,  I  know  this  to  be  true,"  Mr.  George  began. 
"  When  old  Mel  was  alive,  he  and  I  had  plenty  of  sparring, 
and  that  —  but  he's  dead,  and  I'll  do  him  justice.  I  spoke 
of  Burley  Bennet  just  now.  Now,  my  lady,  old  Burley  was, 
/  think,  Mel's  half-brother,  and  he  came,  I  know,  somewhere 
out  of  Drury  Lane  —  one  of  the  courts  near  the  theatre  —  I 
don't  know  much  of  London.  However,  old  Mel  wouldn't 
have  that.  Nothing  less  than  being  born  in  St.  James's 
Square  would  content  old  Mel,  and  he  must  have  a  Marquis 
for  his  father.  I  needn't  be  more  particular.  Before  ladies 
—  ahem !  But  Burley  was  the  shrewd  hand  of  the  two. 
Oh-h-h !  such  a  card !  He  knew  the  way  to  get  into  com- 
pany without  false  pretences.  Well,  I  told  you,  he  had  lots 
more  than  100,000Z.  —  some  said  two  —  and  he  gave  up  Rye- 
lands  ;  never  asked  for  it,  though  he  won  it.  Consequence 
was,  he  commanded  the  services  of  somebody  pretty  high. 
And  it  was  he  got  Admiral  Harrington  made  a  captain, 
posted,  commodore,  admiral,  and  K.C.B.,  all  in  seven  years! 
In  the  Army  it'd  have  been  half  the  time,  for  the  H.R.H. 
was  stronger  in  that  department.  Now,  I  know  old  Burley 
promised  Mel  to  leave  him  his  money,  and  called  the  Admiral 
an  ungrateful  dog.  He  didn't  give  Mel  much  at  a  time  — 
now  and  then  a  twenty-pounder  or  so  —  I  saw  the  cheques. 
And  old  Mel  expected  the  money,  and  looked  over  his 
daughters  like  a  turkey-cock.  Nobody  good  enough  for 
them.  Whacking  handsome  gals  —  three !  used  to  be  called 
the  Three  Graces  of  Lymport.  And  one  day  Burley  comes 
and  visits  Mel,  and  sees  the  girls.  And  he  puts  his  finger 
on  the  eldest,  I  can  tell  you.  She  was  a  spanker !  She  was 
the  handsomest  gal,  I  think,  ever  I  saw.  For  the  mother's 
a  fine  woman,  and  what  with  the  mother,  and  what  with 
old  Mel  — " 

"  We  won't  enter  into  the  mysteries  of  origin,"  quoth  Lady 
Jocelyn. 

"  Exactly,  my  lady.     Oh,  your  servant,  of  course.     Before 

ladies.     A Burley  Bennet,  I  said.      Long  and  short 

was,  he  wanted  to  take  her  up  to  London.  Says  old  Mel : 
'London's  a  sad  place.'  'Place  to  make  money,'  says  Bur- 
ley. <  That's  not  work  for  a  young  gal,'  says  Mel.  Long 
and  short  was,  Burley  wanted  to  take  her,  and  Mel  wouldn't 
let  her  go."    Mr.  George  lowered  his  tone,  and  mumbled. 


234  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"Don't  know  how  to  explain  it  very  well  before  ladies. 
What  Burley  wanted  was  —  it  wasn't  quite  honoiirable,  you 
know,  though  there  was  a  good  deal  of  spangles  on  it,  and 
whether  a  real  H.R.H.,  or  a  Marquis,  or  a  Viscount,  I  can't 
say,  but  the  offer  was  tempting  to  a  tradesman.  *No,'  says 
Mel,  like  a  chap  planting  his  flagstaff  and  sticking  to  it. 
I  believe  that  to  get  her  to  go  with  him,  Burley  offered  to 
make  a  will  on  the  spot,  and  to  leave  every  farthing  of  his 
money  and  property  —  upon  my  soul,  I  believe  it  to  be  true 
—  to  Mel  and  his  family,  if  he'd  let  the  gal  go.  'No,'  says 
Mel.  I  like  the  old  bird !  And  Burley  got  in  a  rage,  and 
said  he'd  leave  every  farthing  to  the  sailor.  Says  Mel : 
*  I'm  a  poor  tradesman ;  but  I  have  and  I  always  will  have 
the  feelings  of  a  gentleman,  and  they're  more  to  me  than 
hard  cash,  and  the  honour  of  my  daughter,  sir,  is  dearer  to 
me  than  my  blood.  Out  of  the  house ! '  cries  Mel.  And  aAvay 
old  Burley  went,  and  left  every  penny  to  the  sailor.  Admiral 
Harrington,  who  never  noticed  'em  an  inch.     Now,  there ! " 

All  had  listened  to  Mr.  George  attentively,  and  he  had 
slurred  the  apologetic  passages,  and  emphasized  the  pro- 
pitiatory 'before  ladies'  in  a  way  to  make  himself  well 
understood  a  generation  back. 

"  Bravo,  old  Mel ! "  rang  the  voice  of  Lady  Jocelyn,  and 
a  murmur  ensued,  in  the  midst  of  which  Rose  stood  up  and 
hurried  round  the  table  to  Mrs.  Strike,  who  was  seen  to  rise 
from  her  chair;  and  as  she  did  so,  the  ill-arranged  locks  fell 
from  their  unnatural  restraint  down  over  her  shoulders; 
one  great  curl  half  forward  to  the  bosom,  and  one  behind  her 
right  ear.  Her  eyes  were  wide,  her  whole  face,  neck,  and 
fingers,  white  as  marble.  The  faintest  tremor  of  a  frown 
on  her  brows,  and  her  shut  lips,  marked  the  continuation 
of  some  internal  struggle,  as  if  with  her  last  conscious  force 
she  kept  down  a  flood  of  tears  and  a  wild  outcry  which  it 
was  death  to  hold.  Sir  Franks  felt  his  arm  touched,  and 
looked  up,  and  caught  her,  as  Rose  approached.  The  Duke 
and  other  gentlemen  went  to  his  aid,  and  as  the  beautiful 
woman  was  borne  out  white  and  still  as  a  corpse,  the  Countess 
had  this  dagger  plunged  in  her  heart  from  the  mouth  of 
Mr.  George,  addressing  Miss  Carrington : 

"  I  swear  I  didn't  do  it  on  purpose.  She's  Carry  Harring- 
ton, old  Mel's  daughter,  as  sure  as  she's  flesh  and  blood ! " 


TREATS   OF   A   HANDKERCHIEF  235 

CHAPTER  XXIII 

TREATS    OF    A   HANDB^RCHIEF 

Running  through  Beckley  Park,  clear  from  the  chalk,  a 
little  stream  gave  light  and  freshness  to  its  pasturage.  Near 
where  it  entered,  a  bathing-house  of  white  marble  had  been 
built,  under  which  the  water  flowed,  and  the  dive  could  be 
taken  to  a  paved  depth,  and  you  swam  out  over  a  pebbly 
bottom  into  sun-light,  screened  by  the  thick-Aveeded  banks, 
loose-strife  and  willow-herb,  and  mint,  nodding  over  you,  and 
in  the  later  season  long-plumed  yellow  grasses.  Here  at 
sunrise  the  young  men  washed  their  limbs,  and  here  since 
her  return  home  English  Rose  loved  to  walk  by  night.  She 
had  often  spoken  of  the  little  happy  stream  to  Evan  in 
Portugal,  and  when  he  came  to  Beckley  Court,  she  arranged 
that  he  should  sleep  in  a  bed-room  overlooking  it.  The  view 
was  sweet  and  pleasant  to  him,  for  all  the  babbling  of  the 
water  was  of  Rose,  and  winding  in  and  out,  to  East,  to 
North,  it  wound  to  embowered  hopes  in  the  lover's  mind,  to 
tender  di'eams ;  and  often  at  dawn,  when  dressing,  his  rest- 
less heart  embarked  on  it,  and  sailed  into  havens,  the  phan- 
tom joys  of  which  coloured  his  life  for  him  all  the  day.  But 
most  he  loved  to  look  across  it  when  the  light  fell.  The 
palest  solitary  gleam  along  its  course  spoke  to  him  rich 
promise.  The  faint  blue  beam  of  a  star  chained  all  his 
longings,  charmed  his  sorrows  to  sleep.  Rose  like  a  fairy 
had  breathed  her  spirit  here,  and  it  was  a  delight  to  the 
silly  luxurious  youth  to  lie  down,  and  fix  some  image  of  a 
flower  bending  to  the  stream  on  his  brain,  and  in  the  cradle 
of  fancies  that  grew  roimd  it,  slide  down  the  tide  of  sleep. 

Prom  the  image  of  a  flower  bending  to  the  stream,  like 
his  own  soul  to  the  bosom  of  Rose,  Evan  built  sweet  fables. 
It  was  she  that  exalted  him,  that  led  him  through  glittering 
chapters  of  adventure.  In  his  dream  of  deeds  achieved  for 
her  sake,  you  may  be  sure  the  young  man  behaved  worthily, 
though  he  was  modest  when  she  praised  him,  and  his  limbs 
trembled  when  the  land  whispered  of  his  great  reward  to 
come.     The  longer  he  stayed  at  Beckley  the  more  he  lived  in 


236  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

this  world  within  world,  and  if  now  and  then  the  harsh  outer 
life  smote  him,  a  look  or  a  word  from  Rose  encompassed  him 
again,  and  he  became  sensible  only  of  a  distant  pain. 

At  first  his  hope  sprang  wildly  to  possess  her,  to  believe, 
that  after  he  had  done  deeds  that  would  have  sent  ordinary 
men  in  the  condition  of  shattered  hulks  to  the  hospital,  she 
might  be  his.  Then  blow  upon  blow  was  struck,  and  he 
prayed  to  be  near  her  till  he  died:  no  more.  Then  she, 
herself,  struck  him  to  the  ground,  and  sitting  in  his  chamber, 
sick  and  weary,  on  the  evening  of  his  mishap,  Evan's  sole 
desire  was  to  obtain  the  handkerchief  he  had  risked  his  neck 
for.  To  have  that,  and  hold  it  to  his  heart,  and  feel  it  as  a 
part  of  her,  seemed  much. 

Over  a  length  of  the  stream  the  red  round  harvest-moon 
was  rising,  and  the  weakened  youth  was  this  evening  at  the 
mercy  of  the  charm  that  encircled  him.  The  water  curved, 
and  dimpled,  and  flowed  flat,  and  the  whole  body  of  it  rushed 
into  the  spaces  of  sad  splendour.  The  clustered  trees  stood 
like  temples  of  darkness ;  their  shadows  lengthened  super- 
naturally ;  and  a  pale  gloom  crept  between  them  on  the  sward. 
He  had  been  thinking  for  some  time  that  Rose  would  knock 
at  his  door,  and  give  him  her  voice,  at  least ;  but  she  did  not 
come;  and  when  he  had  gazed  out  on  the  stream  till  his 
eyes  ached,  he  felt  that  he  must  go  and  walk  by  it. 
Those  little  flashes  of  the  hurrying  tide  spoke  to  him  of  a 
secret  rapture  and  of  a  joy-seeking  impulse;  the  pouring 
onward  of  all  the  blood  of  life  to  one  illumined  heart, 
mournful  from  excess  of  love. 

Pardon  me,  I  beg.  Enamoured  young  men  have  these 
notions.  Ordinarily  Evan  had  sufficient  common  sense  and 
was  as  prosaic  as  mankind  could  wish  him ;  but  he  has  had  a 
terrible  fall  in  the  morning,  and  a  young  woman  rages  in  his 
brain.  Better,  indeed,  and  'more  manly,'  were  he  to  strike 
and  raise  huge  bosses  on  his  forehead,  groan,  and  so  have 
done  with  it.     We  must  let  him  go  his  own  way. 

At  the  door  he  was  met  by  the  Countess.  She  came  into 
the  room  without  a  word  or  a  kiss,  and  when  she  did  speak, 
the  total  absence  of  any  euphuism  gave  token  of  repressed 
excitement  yet  more  than  her  angry  eyes  and  eager  step. 
Evan  had  grown  accustomed  to  her  moods,  and  if  one  moment 
she  was  the  halcyon,  and  another  the  petrel,  it  no  longer 


TREATS   OP   A   HANDKERCHIEF  287 

disturbed  him,  seeing  that  he  was  a  stranger  to  the  influences 
by  which  she  was  affected.  The  Countess  rated  him  severely 
for  not  seeking  repose  and  inviting  sympathy.  She  told  him 
that  the  Jocelyns  had  one  and  all  combined  in  an  infamous 
plot  to  destroy  the  race  of  Harrington,  and  that  Caroline  had 
already  succumbed  to  their  assaults ;  that  the  Jocelyns  would 
repent  it,  and  sooner  than  they  thought  for;  and  that  the 
oiily  friend  the  Harringtons  had  in  the  house  was  Miss 
Bonner,  whom  Providence  would  liberally  reward. 

Then  the  Countess  changed  to  a  dramatic  posture,  and 
whispered  aloud,  "Hush:  she  is  here.  She  is  so  anxious. 
Be  generous,  my  brother,  and  let  her  see  you ! " 

"  She  ?  "  said  Evan,  faintly.  "  May  she  come,  Louisa  ?  " 
He  hoped  for  Rose. 

"I  have  consented  to  mask  it,"  returned  the  Countess. 
"  Oh,  what  do  I  not  sacrifice  for  you." 

She  turned  from  him,  and  to  Evan's  chagrin  introduced 
Juliana  Bonner. 

"  Five  minutes,  remember ! "  said  the  Countess.  "  I  must 
not  hear  of  more."  And  then  Evan  found  himself  alone  with 
Miss  Bonner,  and  very  uneasy.  This  young  lady  had  restless 
brilliant  eyes,  and  a  contraction  about  the  forehead  which 
gave  one  the  idea  of  a  creature  suffering  perpetual  headache. 
She  said  nothing,  and  when  their  eyes  met  she  dropped  hers 
in  a  manner  that  made  silence  too  expressive.  Feeling  which, 
Evan  began : 

"May  I  tell  you  that  I  think  it  is  I  who  ought  to  be 
nursing  you,  not  you  me  ?  " 

Miss  Bonner  replied  by  lifting  her  eyes  and  dropping  them 
as  before,  murmuring  subsequently,  "  Would  you  do  so  ?  " 

"  Most  certainly,  if  you  did  me  the  honour  to  select  me." 

The  fingers  of  the  young  lady  commenced  twisting  and 
intertwining  on  her  lap.     Suddenly  she  laughed : 

"  It  would  not  do  at  all.  You  won't  be  dismissed  from 
your  present  service  till  you're  unfit  for  any  other," 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  said  Evan,  thinking  more  of  the 
unmusical  laugh  than  of  the  words. 

He  received  no  explanation,  and  the  irksome  silence  caused 
him  to  look  through  the  window,  as  an  escape  for  his  mind, 
at  least.  The  waters  streamed  on  endlessly  into  the  golden 
arms  awaiting  them.     The  low  moon  burnt  through  the 


238  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

foliage.  In  the  distance,  over  a  reach  of  the  flood,  one  tall 
aspen  shook  against  the  lighted  sky. 

"  Are  you  in  pain  ?  "  Miss  Bonner  asked,  and  broke  his 
reverie. 

"  No ;  I  am  going  away,  and  perhaps  I  sigh  involuntarily." 

"  You  like  these  grounds  ?  " 

"  I  have  never  been  so  happy  in  any  place." 

"  With  those  cruel  young  men  about  you  ?  " 

Evan  now  laughed.  "We  don't  call  young  men  cruel, 
Miss  Bonner." 

"  But  were  they  not  ?  To  take  advantage  of  what  Kose 
told  them  —  it  was  base ! " 

She  had  said  more  than  she  intended,  possibly,  for  she 
coloured  under  his  inquiring  look,  and  added:  "I  wish  I 
could  say  the  same  as  you  of  Beckley.  Do  you  know,  I  am 
called  Rose's  thorn  ?  " 

"  Not  by  Miss  Jocelyn  herself,  certainly ! " 

"How  eager  you  are  to  defend  her.  But  am  I  not  —  tell 
me  —  do  I  not  look  like  a  thorn  in  company  with  her  ?  " 

"  There  is  but  the  difference  that  ill  health  would  make." 

"  111  health  ?  Oh,  yes !  And  Rose  is  so  much  better 
bom." 

"  To  that,  I  am  sure,  she  does  not  give  a  thought." 

"Not  Rose?     Oh!" 

An  exclamation,  properly  lengthened,  convinces  the  feel- 
ings more  satisfactorily  than  much  logic.  Though  Evan 
claimed  only  the  handkerchief  he  had  won,  his  heart  sank 
at  the  sound.  Miss  Bonner  watched  him,  and  springing 
forward,  said  sharply : 

"  May  I  tell  you  something  ?  " 

"  You  may  tell  me  what  you  please." 

"  Then,  whether  I  offend  you  or  not,  you  had  better  leave 
this." 

"  I  am  going,"  said  Evan.  "  I  am  only  waiting  to  intro- 
duce your  tutor  to  you." 

She  kept  her  eyes  on  him,  and  in  her  voice  as  well  there 
was  a  depth,  as  she  returned : 

"  Mr.  Laxley,  Mr.  Forth,  and  Harry,  are  going  to  Lymport 
to-morrow." 

Evan  was  looking  at  a  figure,  whose  shadow  was  thrown 
towards  the  house  from  the  margin  of  the  stream. 


TREATS   OF   A   HANDKERCHIEF  239 

He  stood  up,  and  taking  the  Jiand  of  Miss  Bonner,  said : 

"  I  thank  you.  I  may,  perhaps,  start  with  them.  At  any 
rate,  you  have  done  me  a  great  service,  which  I  shall  not 
forget." 

The  figure  by  the  stream  he  knew  to  be  that  of  Kose.  He 
released  Miss  Bonner's  trembling  moist  hand,  and  as  he 
continued  standing,  she  moved  to  the  door,  after  once  fol- 
lowing the  line  of  his  eyes  into  the  moonlight. 

Outside  the  door  a  noise  was  audible.  Andrew  had  come 
to  sit  with  his  dear  boy,  and  the  Countess  had  met  and 
engaged  and  driven  him  to  the  other  end  of  the  passage, 
where  he  hung  remonstrating  with  her. 

"  Why,  Van,"  he  said,  as  Evan  came  up  to  him,  "  I  thought 
you  were  in  a  profound  sleep.     Louisa  said  —  " 

"  Silly  Andrew !  "  interposed  the  Countess,  "  do  you  not 
observe  he  is  sleep-walking  now  ?  "  and  she  left  them  with 
a  light  laugh  to  go  to  Juliana,  whom  she  found  in  tears. 
The  Countess  was  quite  aware  of  the  efficacy  of  a  little  bit 
of  burlesque  lying  to  cover  her  retreat  from  any  petty 
exposure. 

Evan  soon  got  free  from  Andrew.  He  was  under  the  dim 
stars,  walking  to  the  great  fire  in  the  East.  The  cool  air 
refreshed  him.  He  was  simply  going  to  ask  for  his  own, 
before  he  went,  and  had  no  cause  to  fear  what  would  be 
thought  by  any  one.  A  handkerchief !  A  man  might  fairly 
win  that,  and  carry  it  out  of  a  very  noble  family,  without 
having  to  blush  for  himself. 

I  cannot  say  whether  he  inherited  his  feeling  for  rank 
from  Mel,  his  father,  or  that  the  Countess  had  succeeded  in 
instilling  it,  but  Evan  never  took  Republican  ground  in 
opposition  to  those  who  insulted  him,  and  never  lashed  his 
*  manhood,'  to  assert  itself,  nor  compared  the  fineness  of  his 
instincts  with  the  behaviour  of  titled  gentlemen.  Rather 
he  seemed  to  admit  the  distinction  between  his  birth  and 
that  of  a  gentleman,  admitting  it  to  his  own  soul,  as  it  were, 
and  struggled  simply  as  men  struggle  against  a  destiny. 
The  news  Miss  Bonner  had  given  him  sufficed  to  break  a 
spell  which  could  not  have  endured  another  week ;  and 
Andrew,  besides,  had  told  him  of  Caroline's  illness.  He 
walked  to  meet  Rose,  honestly  intending  to  ask  for  his 
own,  and  wish  her  good-bye. 


240  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Rose  saw  him  approach,  p,nd  knew  him  in  the  distance. 
She  was  sitting  ou  a  lower  branch  of  the  aspen,  that  shot 
out  almost  from  the  root,  and  stretched  over  the  intervolving 
rays  of  light  on  the  tremulous  water.  She  could  not  move 
to  meet  him.  She  was  not  the  Rose  whom  we  have  hitherto 
known.  Love  may  spring  in  the  bosom  of  a  young  girl,  like 
Hesper  in  the  evening  sky,  a  grey  speck  in  a  field  of  grey, 
and  not  be  seen  or  known,  till  surely  as  the  circle  advances 
the  faint  planet  gathers  fire,  and,  coming  nearer  earth, 
dilates,  and  will  and  must  be  seen  and  known.  When  Evan 
lay  like  a  dead  man  on  the  groimd,  Rose  turned  upon  her- 
self as  the  author  of  his  death,  and  then  she  felt  this  pres- 
ence within  her,  and  her  heart  all  day  had  talked  to  her  of 
it,  and  was  throbbing  now,  and  would  not  be  quieted.  She 
could  only  lift  her  eyes  and  give  him  her  hand ;  she  could 
not  speak.  She  thought  him  cold,  and  he  was ;  cold  enough 
to  think  that  she  and  her  cousin  were  not  unlike  in  their 
manner,  though  not  deep  enough  to  reflect  that  it  was  from 
the  same  cause. 

She  was  the  first  to  find  her  wits:  but  not  before  she 
spoke  did  she  feel,  and  start  to  feel,  how  long  had  been  the 
silence,  and  that  her  hand  was  still  in  his. 

"  Why  did  you  come  out,  Evan  ?     It  was  not  right." 

"  I  came  to  speak  to  you.  I  shall  leave  early  to-morrow, 
and  may  not  see  you  alone." 

"  You  are  going ?  " 

She  checked  her  voice,  and  left  the  thrill  of  it  wavering 
in  him. 

"  Yes,  Rose,  I  am  going ;  I  should  have  gone  before." 

"  Evan ! "  she  grasped  his  hand,  and  then  timidly  retained 
it.  "You  have  not  forgiven  me?  I  see  now.  I  did  not 
think  of  any  risk  to  you.  I  only  wanted  you  to  beat.  I 
wanted  you  to  be  first  and  best.  If  you  knew  how  I  thank 
God  for  saving  you!  What  my  pimishment  would  have 
been ! " 

Till  her  eyes  were  full  she  kept  them  on  him,  too  deep  in 
emotion  to  be  conscious  of  it. 

He  could  gaze  on  her  tears  coldly. 

"  I  should  be  happy  to  take  the  leap  any  day  for  the  prize 
you  offered.     I  have  come  for  that." 

"For  what,  Evan?"     But  while  she  was  speaking  the 


TREATS  OP  A   HAKDKERCHIEF  241 

colour  mounted  in  her  cheeks,  and  she  went  on  rapidly : 
"  Did  you  think  it  unkind  of  me  not  to  come  to  nurse  you. 
I  must  tell  you,  to  defend  myself.  It  was  the  Countess, 
Evan.  She  is  offended  with  me  —  very  justly,  I  dare  say. 
She  would  not  let  me  come.  What  coidd  I  do  ?  I  had  no 
claim  to  come." 

Rose  was  not  aware  of  the  import  of  her  speech.  Evan, 
though  he  felt  more  in  it,  and  had  some  secret  nerves  set 
tingling  and  dancing,  was  not  to  be  moved  from  his  demand. 

"  Do  you  intend  to  withhold  it,  Rose  ?  " 

"  Withhold  what,  Evan  ?  Anything  that  you  wish  for  is 
yours." 

"  The  handkerchief.     Is  not  that  mine  ?  " 

Rose  faltered  a  word.  Why  did  he  ask  for  it  ?  Because 
he  asked  for  nothing  else,  and  wanted  no  other  thing  save 
that. 

Why  did  she  hesitate  ?  Because  it  was  so  poor  a  gift,  and 
so  unworthy  of  him. 

And  why  did  he  insist  ?  Because  in  honour  she  was 
bound  to  surrender  it. 

And  why  did  she  hesitate  still  ?     Let  her  answer. 

"  Oh,  Evan  !  I  would  give  you  anything  but  that ;  and  if 
you  are  going  away,  I  should  beg  so  much  to  keep  it." 

He  must  have  been  in  a  singular  state  not  to  see  her  heart 
in  the  refusal,  as  was  she  not  to  see  his  in  the  request.  But 
Love  is  blindest  just  when  the  bandage  is  being  removed 
from  his  forehead. 

"  Then  you  will  not  give  it  me,  Rose  ?  Do  you  think  I 
shall  go  about  boasting  'This  is  Miss  Jocelyn's  handker- 
chief, and  I,  poor  as  I  am,  have  won  it '  ?  " 

The  taunt  struck  aslant  in  Rose's  breast  with  a  peculiar 
sting.     She  stood  up. 

"I  will  give  it  you,  Evan." 

Turning  from  him  she  drew  it  forth,  and  handed  it  to  him 
hurriedly. 

It  was  warm.  It  was  stained  with  his  blood.  He  guessed 
where  it  had  been  nestling,  and  now,  as  if  by  revelation, 
he  saw  that  large  sole  star  in  the  bosom  of  his  darling,  and 
was  blinded  by  it  and  lost  his  senses. 

"Rose!  beloved!" 

Like  the  flower  of  his  nightly  phantasy  bending  over  the 


242  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

stream,  he  looked  and  saw  in  her  sweet  face  the  living 
wonders  that  encircled  his  image ;  she  murmuring :  "  No, 
you  must  hate  me." 

"  I  love  you,  Rose,  and  dare  to  say  it  —  and  it's  unpardon- 
able.    Can  you  forgive  me  ?  " 

She  raised  her  face  to  him, 

"  Forgive  you  for  loving  me  ?  "  she  said. 

Holy  to  them  grew  the  stillness :  the  ripple  suffused  in 
golden  moonlight:  the  dark  edges  of  the  leaves  against 
superlative  brightness.  Not  a  chirp  was  heard,  nor  anything 
save  the  cool  and  endless  carol  of  the  happy  waters,  whose 
voices  are  the  spirits  of  silence.  Nature  seemed  consenting 
that  their  hands  should  be  joined,  their  eyes  intermingling. 
And  when  Evan,  with  a  lover's  craving,  wished  her  lips  to 
say  what  her  eyes  said  so  well.  Rose  drew  his  fingers  up, 
and,  with  an  arch  smile  and  a  blush,  kissed  them.  The 
simple  act  set  his  heart  thvmiping,  and  from  the  look  of  love, 
she  saw  an  expression  of  pain  pass  through  him.  Her  fe'alty 
—  her  guileless,  fearless  truth  —  which  the  kissing  of  his 
hand  brought  vividly  before  him,  conjured  its  contrast  as 
well  in  this  that  was  hidden  from  her,  or  but  half  suspected. 
Did  she  know  —  know  and  love  him  still  ?  He  thought  it 
might  be :  but  that  fell  dead  on  her  asking : 

"  Shall  I  speak  to  Mama  to-night  ?  " 

A  load  of  lead  crushed  him. 

"  Rose ! "  he  said ;  but  could  get  no  farther. 

Innocently,  or  with  well-masked  design.  Rose  branched 
off  into  little  sweet  words  about  his  bruised  shoulder,  touch- 
ing it  softly,  as  if  she  knew  the  virtue  that  was  in  her  touch, 
and  accusing  her  selfish  self  as  she  caressed  it:  "Dearest 
Evan !  you  must  have  been  sure  I  thought  no  one  like  you. 
Why  did  you  not  tell  me  before  ?  I  can  hardly  believe  it 
now !  Do  you  know,"  she  hurried  on,  "  they  think  me  cold 
and  heartless,  —  am  I  ?  I  must  be,  to  have  made  you  run 
such  risk ;  but  yet  I'm  sure  I  could  not  have  survived  you." 

Dropping  her  voice.  Rose  quoted  Ruth.  As  Evan  lis- 
tened, the  words  were  like  food  from  heaven  poured  into 
his  spirit. 

"To-morrow,"  he  kept  saying  to  himself,  "to-morrow  I 
will  tell  her  all.  Let  her  think  well  of  me  a  few  short 
hours." 


THE  COUNTESS   MAKES   HERSELF   FELT  243 

But  the  passing  minutes  locked  them  closer ;  each  had  a 
new  link  —  in  a  word,  or  a  speechless  breath,  or  a  touch :  and 
to  break  the  marriage  of  their  eyes  there  must  be  infinite 
baseness  on  one  side,  or  on  the  other  disloyalty  to  love. 

The  moon  was  a  silver  ball,  high  up  through  the  aspen- 
leaves.  Evan  kissed  the  hand  of  Rose,  and  led  her  back  to 
the  house.  He  had  appeased  his  conscience  by  restraining 
his  wild  desire  to  kiss  her  lips. 

In  the  hall  they  parted.  Eose  whispered,  "  Till  death ! " 
giving  him  her  hands. 


CHAPTER  XXIV 

THE   COUNTESS    MAKES    HERSELF    FELT 

There  is  a  peculiar  reptile  whose  stroke  is  said  to  deprive 
men  of  motion.  On  the  day  after  the  great  Mel  had  stalked 
the  dinner-table  of  Beckley  Court,  several  of  the  guests  were 
sensible  of  the  effect  of  this  creature's  mysterious  touch, 
without  knowing  what  it  was  that  paralyzed  them.  Drum- 
mond  Eorth  had  fully  planned  to  go  to  Lymport.  He  had 
special  reasons  for  making  investigations  with  regard  to  the 
great  Mel.  Harry,  who  was  fond  of  Drummond,  offered  to 
accompany  him,  and  Laxley,  for  the  sake  of  a  diversion, 
fell  into  the  scheme.  Mr.  George  Uploft  was  also  to  be  of 
the  party,  and  promised  them  fun.  But  when  the  time  came 
to  start,  not  one  could  be  induced  to  move :  Laxley  was 
pressingly  engaged  by  Rose :  Harry  showed  the  rope  the 
Countess  held  him  by ;  Mr.  George  made  a  singular  face, 
and  seriously  advised  Drummond  to  give  up  the  project. 

"  Don't  rub  that  woman  the  wrong  way,"  he  said,  in  a 
private  colloquy  they  had.  "  By  Jingo,  she's  a  Tartar.  She 
was  as  a  gal,  and  she  isn't  changed,  Lou  Harrington.  Fancy 
now:  she  knew  me,  and  she  faced  me  out,  and  made  me 
think  her  a  stranger  !  Gad,  I'm  glad  I  didn't  speak  to  the 
others.  Lord's  sake,  keep  it  quiet.  Don't  rouse  that  woman, 
now,  if  you  want  to  keep  a  whole  skin." 

Drummond  laughed  at  his  extreme  earnestness  in  caution- 


244  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

ing  him,  and  appeared  to  enjoy  his  dread  of  the  Countess. 
Mr.  George  would  not  tell  how  he  had  been  induced  to  change 
his  mind.  He  repeated  his  advice  with  a  very  emphatic 
shrug  of  the  shoulder. 

"  You  seem  afraid  of  her,"  said  Drummond. 

"  I  am.  I  ain't  ashamed  to  confess  it.  She's  a  regular 
viper,  my  boy  ! "  said  Mr.  George.  "  She  and  I  once  were 
pretty  thick  —  least  said  soonest  mended,  you  know.  I 
offended  her.  Wasn't  quite  up  to  her  mark  —  a  tailor's 
daughter,  you  know.  Gad,  if  she  didn't  set  an  Irish  Dra- 
goon Captain  on  me !  —  I  went  about  in  danger  of  my  life. 
The  fellow  began  to  twist  his  damned  black  moustaches  the 
moment  he  clapped  eyes  on  me  —  bullied  me  till,  upon  my 
soul,  I  was  almost  ready  to  fight  him !  Oh,  she  was  a  little 
tripping  Tartar  of  a  bantam  hen  then.  She's  grown  since 
she's  been  countessed,  and  does  it  peacocky.  Now,  I  give 
you  fair  warning,  you  know.  She's  more  than  any  man's 
match." 

"  I  dare  say  I  shall  think  the  same  when  she  has  beaten 
me,"  quoth  cynical  Drummond,  and  immediately  went  and 
gave  orders  for  his  horse  to  be  saddled,  thinking  that  he 
would  tread  on  the  head  of  the  viper. 

But  shortly  before  the  hour  of  his  departure,  Mrs.  Evre- 
monde  summoned  him  to  her,  and  showed  him  a  slip  of 
paper,  on  which  was  written,  in  an  uncouth  small  hand : 

"Madam:  a  friend  warns  you  that  your  husband  is 
coming  here.  Deep  interest  in  your  welfare  is  the  cause  of 
an  anonymous  communication.  The  writer  wishes  only  to 
warn  you  in  time." 

Mrs.  Evremonde  told  Drummond  that  she  had  received  it 
from  one  of  the  servants  when  leaving  the  breakfast-room. 
Beyond  the  fact  that  a  man  on  horseback  had  handed  it  to  a 
little  boy,  who  had  delivered  it  over  to  the  footman,  Drum- 
mond could  learn  nothing.  Of  course,  all  thought  of  the 
journey  to  Lymport  was  abandoned.  If  but  to  excogitate  a 
motive  for  the  origin  of  the  document,  Drummond  was 
forced  to  remain;  and  now  he  had  it,  and  now  he  lost  it 
again;  and  as  he  was  wandering  about  in  his  maze,  the 
Countess  met  him  with  a  "  Good  morning,  Mr.  Forth.    Have 


THE   COUNTESS   MAKES   HERSELF   FELT  245 

I  impeded  your  expedition  by  taking  my  friend  Mr.  Harry 
to  cavalier  me  to-day  ?  " 

Drummond  smilingly  assured  her  that  she  had  not  in  any 
way  disarranged  his  projects,  and  passed  with  so  absorbed  a 
brow  that  the  Countess  could  afford  to  turn  her  head  and 
inspect  him,  without  fear  that  he  would  surprise  her  in  the 
act.  Knocking  the  pearly  edge  of  her  fan  on  her  teeth,  she 
eyed  him  under  her  joined  black  lashes,  and  deliberately 
read  his  thoughts  in  the  mere  shape  of  his  back  and 
shoulders.  She  read  him  through  and  through,  and  was  un- 
conscious of  the  effective  attitude  she  stood  in  for  the  space 
of  two  full  minutes,  and  even  then  it  required  one  of  our 
unhappy  sex  to  recall  her.     This  was  Harry  Jocelyn. 

"  My  friend,"  she  said  to  him,  with  a  melancholy  smile, 
*^  my  one  friend  here ! " 

Harry  went  through  the  form  of  kissing  her  hand,  which 
he  had  been  taught,  and  practised  cunningly  as  the  first 
step  of  the  ladder. 

"  I  say,  you  looked  so  handsome,  standing  as  you  did  just 
now,"  he  remarked ;  and  she  could  see  how  far  beneath  her 
that  effective  attitude  had  precipitated  the  youth. 

"  Ah ! "  she  sighed,  walking  on,  with  the  step  of  majesty 
in  exile. 

"  What  the  deuce  is  the  matter  with  everybody  to-day  ?  " 
cried  Harry.  "  I'm  hanged  if  I  can  make  it  out.  There's 
the  Carrington,  as  you  call  her,  I  met  her  with  such  a  pair 
of  eyes,  and  old  George  looking  as  if  he'd  been  licked,  at 
her  heels ;  and  there's  Drummond  and  his  lady  fair  moping 
about  the  lawn,  and  my  mother  positively  getting  excited — 
there's  a  miracle!  and  Juley's  sharpening  her  nails  for 
somebody,  and  if  Ferdinand  don't  look  out,  your  brother'll 
be  walking  off  with  Rosey — that's  my  opinion." 

"  Indeed,"  said  the  Countess.     "  You  really  think  so  ?  " 

"  Well,  they  come  it  pretty  strong  together." 

"And  what  constitutes  the  'come  it  strong,'  Mr. 
Harry  ?  " 

"Hold  of  hands,  you  know,"  the  young  gentleman  indi- 
cated. 

"  Alas,  then  !  must  not  we  be  more  discreet  ?  " 

"  Oh !  but  it's  different.  With  young  people  one  knows 
what  that  means." 


246  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"  Deus ! "  exclaimed  the  Countess,  tossing  lier  head 
weariedly,  and  Harry  perceived  his  slip,  and  down  he  went 
again. 

What  wonder  that  a  youth  in  such  training  should  consent 
to  fetch  and  carry,  to  listen  and  relate,  to  play  the  spy  and 
know  no  more  of  his  ofl&ce  than  that  it  gave  him  astonish- 
ing thrills  of  satisfaction,  and  now  and  then  a  secret  sweet 
reward  ? 

The  Countess  had  sealed  Miss  Carrington's  mouth  by  one 
of  her  most  dexterous  strokes.  On  leaving  the  dinner-table 
over-night,  and  seeing  that  Caroline's  attack  would  preclude 
their  instant  retreat,  the  gallant  Countess  turned  at  bay.  A 
word  aside  to  Mr..  George  Uploft,  and  then  the  Countess  took 
a  chair  by  Miss  Carrington.  She  did  all  the  conversation, 
and  supplied  all  the  smiles  to  it,  and  when  a  lady  has  to  do 
that  she  is  justified  in  striking,  and  striking  hard,  for  to 
abandon  the  pretence  of  sweetness  is  a  gross  insult  from 
one  woman  to  another. 

The  Countess  then  led  circuitously,  but  with  all  the  ease  in 
the  world,  to  the  story  of  a  Portuguese  lady,  of  a  marvellous 
beauty,  and  who  was  deeply  enamoured  of  the  Chevalier 
Miguel  de  Rasadio,  and  engaged  to  be  married  to  him  :  but, 
alas  for  her !  in  the  insolence  of  her  happiness  she  wantonly 
made  an  enemy  in  the  person  of  a  most  unoffending  lady,  and 
she  repented  it.  While  sketching  the  admirable  Chevalier, 
the  Countess  drew  a  telling  portrait  of  Mr.  George  Uploft,  and 
gratified  her  humour  and  her  wrath  at  once  by  strong  truth 
to  nature  in  the  description  and  animated  encomiums  on  the 
individual.  The  Portuguese  lady,  too,  a  little  resembled 
Miss  Carrington,  in  spite  of  her  marvellous  beauty.  And  it 
was  odd  that  Miss  Carrington  should  give  a  sudden  start  and 
a  horrified  glance  at  the  Countess  just  when  the  Countess  was 
pathetically  relating  the  proceeding  taken  by  the  revengeful 
lady  on  the  beautiful  betrothed  of  the  Chevalier  Miguel  de 
Rasadio :  which  proceeding  was  nothing  other  than  to  bring 
to  the  Chevalier's  knowledge  that  his  beauty  had  a  defect  con- 
cealed by  her  apparel,  and  that  the  specks  in  his  fruit  were 
not  one,  or  two,  but.  Oh !  And  the  dreadful  sequel  to  the 
story  the  Countess  could  not  tell :  preferring  ingeniously  to 
throw  a  tragic  veil  over  it.  Miss  Carrington  went  early  to 
bed  that  night. 


THE   COUNTESS  MAKES   HERSELF   FELT  247 

The  courage  that  mounteth  with  occasion  was  eminently 
the  attribute  of  the  Countess  de  Saldar.  After  that  dreadful 
dinner  she  (since  the  weaknesses  of  great  generals  shotdd  not 
be  altogether  ignored)  did  pray  for  flight  and  total  obscurity, 
but  Caroline  could  not  be  left  in  her  hysteric  state,  and  now 
that  she  really  perceived  that  Evan  was  progressing  and  on 
the  point  of  sealing  his  chance,  the  devoted  lady  resolved  to 
hold  her  ground.  Besides,  there  was  the  pic-nic.  The  Count- 
ess had  one  dress  she  had  not  yet  appeared  in,  and  it  was  for 
the  pic-nic  she  kept  it.  That  small  motives  are  at  the  bottom 
of  many  illustrious  actions  is  a  modern  discovery;  but  I  shall 
not  adopt  the  modern  principle  of  magnifying  the  small 
motive  till  it  overshadows  my  noble  heroine.  I  remember 
that  the  small  motive  is  only  to  be  seen  by  being  borne  into 
the  range  of  my  vision  by  a  powerful  microscope ;  and  if  I  do 
more  than  see — if  I  carry  on  my  reflections  by  the  aid  of  the 
glass,  I  arrive  at  conclusions  that  must  be  false.  Men  who 
dwarf  human  nature  do  this.  The  gods  are  juster.  The 
Countess,  though  she  wished  to  remain  for  the  pic-nic,  and 
felt  warm  in  anticipation  of  the  homage  to  her  new  dress,  was 
still  a  gallant  general  and  a  devoted  sister,  and  if  she  said  to 
herself,  "  Come  what  may,  I  will  stay  for  that  pic-nic,  and 
they  shall  not  brow-beat  me  out  of  it,"  it  is  that  trifling  pleas- 
ures are  noisiest  about  the  heart  of  human  nature :  not  that 
they  govern  us  absolutely.  There  is  mob-rule  in  minds  as  in 
communities,  but  the  Countess  had  her  appetites  in  excellent 
drill.  This  pic-nic  surrendered,  represented  to  her  defeat  in 
all  its  ignominy.  The  largest  longest^headed  of  schemes  ask 
occasionally  for  something  substantial  and  immediate.  So 
the  Countess  stipulated  with  Providence  for  the  pic-nic.  It 
was  a  point  to  be  passed:  "Thorough  flood,  thorough 
fire." 

In  vain  poor  Andrew  Cogglesby,  to  whom  the  dinner  had 
been  torture,  and  who  was  beginning  to  see  the  position 
they  stood  in  at  Beckley,  begged  to  be  allowed  to  take 
them  away,  or  to  go  alone.  The  Countess  laughed  him 
into  submission.  As  a  consequence  of  her  audacious  spirits 
she  grew  more  charming  and  more  natural,  and  the  humour 
that  she  possessed,  but  which,  like  her  other  faculties,  was 
usually  subordinate  to  her  plans,  gave  spontaneous  bursts 
throughout  the  day,  and  delighted  her  courtiers.      Nor  did 


248  EVAN  HARRDTGTON 

the  men  at  all  dislike  the  difference  of  her  manner  with 
them,  and  with  the  ladies.  I  may  observe  that  a  woman 
who  shows  a  marked  depression  in  the  presence  of  her  own 
sex  will  be  thought  very  superior  by  ours ;  that  is,  suppos- 
ing she  is  clever  and  agreeable.  Manhood  distinguishes 
what  flatters  it.  A  lady  approaches.  "We  must  be 
proper,"  says  the  Countess,  and  her  hearty  laugh  dies 
with  suddenness  and  is  succeeded  by  the  maturest  gravity. 
And  the  Countess  can  look  a  profound  merriment  with  per- 
fect sedateness  when  there  appears  to  be  an  equivoque  in 
company.  Finely  secret  are  her  glances,  as  if  under  every 
eye-lash  there  lurked  the  shade  of  a  meaning.  What  she 
meant  was  not  so  clear.  All  this  was  going  on,  and  Lady 
Jocelyn  was  simply  amused,  and  sat  as  at  a  play. 

"She  seems  to  have  stepped  out  of  a  book  of  French 
memoirs,"  said  her  ladyship.  "La  vie  galante  et  devote  — 
voila  la  Comtesse." 

In  contradistinction  to  the  other  ladies,  she  did  not 
detest  the  Countess  because  she  could  not  like  her. 

"Where's  the  harm  in  her?"  she  asked.  "She  doesn't 
damage  the  men,  that  I  can  see.  And  a  person  you  can 
laugh  at  and  with,  is  inexhaustible." 

"And  how  long  is  she  to  stay  here?"  Mrs.  Shorne 
inquired.  Mrs.  Melville  remarking:  "Her  visit  appears 
to  be  inexhaustible." 

"I  suppose  she'll  stay  till  the  Election  business  is  over," 
said  Lady  Jocelyn. 

The  Countess  had  just  driven  with  Melville  to  Fallow- 
field  in  Caroline's  black  lace  shawl. 

"  Upwards  of  four  weeks  longer ! "  Mrs.  Melville  inter- 
jected. 

Lady  Jocelyn  chuckled. 

Miss  Carrington  was  present.  She  had  been  formerly 
sharp  in  her  condemnation  of  the  Countess  —  her  aif ected- 
ness,  her  euphuism,  and  her  vulgarity.  Now  she  did  not 
say  a  word,  though  she  might  have  done  it  with  impunity. 

"I  suppose,  Emily,  you  see  what  Rose  is  about?"  said 
Mrs.  Melville.  "  I  should  not  have  thought  it  advisable  to 
have  that  young  man  here,  myself.  I  think  I  let  you  know 
that." 

"One  young  man's  as  good  as  another,"  responded  her 


THE  COUNTESS  MAKES   HEESELP  FELT  249 

ladyship.     "I've  my  doubts  of  the  one  that's  much  better. 
I  fancy  Rose  is  as  good  a  judge  by  this  time  as  you  or  I." 

Mrs.  Melville  made  an  effort  or  two  to  open  Lady  Jocelyn's 
eyes,  and  then  relapsed  into  the  confident  serenity  inspired 
by  evil  prognostications. 

"  But  there  really  does  seem  some  infatuation  about  these 
people ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Shorne,  turning  to  Miss  Current. 
"Can  you  understand  it?  The  Duke,  my  dear!  Things 
seem  to  be  going  on  in  the  house,  that  really  —  and  so 
openly." 

"That's  one  virtue,"  said  Miss  Current,  with  her  imper- 
turbable metallic  voice,  and  face  like  a  cold  clear  northern 
sky.  "Things  done  in  secret  throw  on  the  outsiders  the 
onus  of  raising  a  scandal." 

"  You  don't  believe,  then?"  suggested  Mrs.  Shorne. 

Miss  Current  replied:  "I  always  wait  for  a  thing  to 
happen  first." 

"  But  haven't  you  seen,  my  dear?  " 

"I  never  see  anything,  my  dear." 

"Then  you  must  be  blind,  my  dear." 

"On  the  contrary,  that's  how  I  keep  my  sight,  my  dear." 

"I  don't  understand  you,"  said  Mrs.  Shorne. 

"It's  a  part  of  the  science  of  optics,  and  requires  study," 
said  Miss  Current. 

Neither  with  the  worldly  nor  the  unworldly  woman  could 
the  ladies  do  anything.  But  they  were  soon  to  have  their 
triumph. 

A  delicious  morning  had  followed  the  lovely  night.  The 
stream  flowed  under  Evan's  eyes,  like  something  in  a  lower 
sphere,  now.  His  passion  took  him  up,  as  if  a  genie  had 
lifted  him  into  mid-air,  and  showed  him  the  world  on  a 
palm  of  a  hand;  and  yet,  as  he  dressed  by  the  window, 
little  chinks  in  the  garden  wall,  and  nectarines  under  their 
shiny  leaves,  and  the  white  walks  of  the  garden,  were 
stamped  on  his  hot  brain  accurately  and  lastingly.  Euth 
upon  the  lips  of  Rose :  that  voice  of  living  constancy  made 
music  to  him  everywhere.  "Thy  God  shall  be  my  God." 
He  had  heard  it  all  through  the  night.  He  had  not  yet 
broken  the  tender  charm  sufficiently  to  think  that  he  must 
tell  her  the  sacrifice  she  would  have  to  make.  When  partly 
he  did,  the  first  excuse  he  clutched  at  was,  that  he  had  not 


250  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

even  kissed  her  on  the  forehead.  Surely  he  had  been 
splendidly  chivalrous  ?  Just  as  surely  he  would  have 
brought  on  himself  the  scorn  of  the  chivalrous  or  of  the 
commonly  balanced  if  he  had  been  otherwise.  The  gran- 
deur of  this  or  of  any  of  his  proceedings,  then,  was  for- 
feited, as  it  must  needs  be  when  we  are  in  the  false 
position:  we  can  have  no  glory  though  martyred.  The 
youth  felt  it,  even  to  the  seeing  of  why  it  was;  and  he 
resolved,  in  justice  to  the  dear  girl,  that  he  would  break 
loose  from  his  fetters,  as  we  call  our  weakness.  Behold, 
Rose  met  him  descending  the  stairs,  and,  taking  his  hand, 
sang,  unabashed,  by  the  tell-tale  colour  coming  over  her 
face,  a  stave  of  a  little  Portuguese  air  that  they  had  both 
been  fond  of  in  Portugal;  and  he,  listening  to  it,  and  look- 
ing in  her  eyes,  saw  that  his  feelings  in  the  old  time  had 
been  hers.  Instantly  the  old  time  gave  him  its  breath,  the 
present  drew  back. 

Rose,  now  that  she  had  given  her  heart  out,  had  no  idea 
of  concealment.  She  would  have  denied  nothing  to  her 
aunts :  she  was  ready  to  confide  it  to  her  mother.  Was  she 
not  proud  of  the  man  she  loved?  When  Evan's  hand 
touched  hers  she  retained  it,  and  smiled  up  at  him  frankly, 
as  it  were  to  make  him  glad  in  her  gladness.  If  before 
others  his  eyes  brought  the  blood  to  her  cheeks,  she  would 
perhaps  drop  her  eye-lids  an  instant,  and  then  glance  quickly 
level  again  to  reassure  him.  And  who  would  have  thought 
that  this  boisterous,  boyish  creature  had  such  depths  of  eye ! 
Cold,  did  they  call  her?  Let  others  think  her  cold.  The 
tender  knowledge  of  her  —  the  throbbng  secret  they  held  in 
common  sang  at  his  heart.  Rose  made  no  confidante,  but 
she  attempted  no  mystery.  Evan  should  have  risen  to  the 
height  of  the  noble  girl.  But  the  dearer  and  sweeter  her 
bearing  became,  the  more  conscious  he  was  of  the  dead 
weight  he  was  dragging:  in  truth  her  behaviour  stamped 
his  false  position  to  hard  print  the  more  he  admired  her 
for  it,  and  he  had  shrinkings  from  the  feminine  part  it 
imposed  on  him  to  play. 


THE  STEBAM  FLOWS  MUDDY  AND   CLEAB        251 

CHAPTER  XXV 

IN  WHICH    THE  STREAM    FLOWS    MUDDY  AND  CLEAB 

An  Irish  retriever-pup  of  the  Shannon  breed,  Pat  by 
name,  was  undergoing  tuition  on  the  sward  close  by  the 
kennels,  Rose's  hunting-whip  being  passed  through  his  col- 
lar to  restrain  erratic  propensities.  The  particular  point  of 
instruction  which  now  made  poor  Pat  hang  out  his  tongue, 
and  agitate  his  crisp  brown  curls,  was  the  performance  of 
the  "down-charge;"  a  ceremony  demanding  implicit  obe- 
dience from  the  animal  in  the  midst  of  volatile  gambadoes, 
and  a  simulation  of  profound  repose  when  his  desire  to  be 
up  and  bounding  was  mighty,  Pat's  Irish  eyes  were  watch- 
ing Rose,  as  he  lay  with  his  head  couched  between  his  fore- 
paws  in  the  required  attitude.  He  had  but  half  learnt  his 
lesson,  and  something  in  his  half-humorous,  half-melan- 
choly look  talked  to  Rose  more  eloquently  than  her  friend 
Ferdinand  at  her  elbow.  Laxley  was  her  assistant  dog- 
breaker.  Rose  would  not  abandon  her  friends  because  she 
had  accepted  a  lover.  On  the  contrary.  Rose  was  very  kind 
to  Ferdinand,  and  perhaps  felt  bound  to  be  so  to-day.  To- 
day, also,  her  face  was  lighted ;  a  readiness  to  colour,  and  an 
expression  of  deeper  knowledge,  which  she  now  had,  made 
the  girl  dangerous  to  friends.  This  was  not  Rose's  fault : 
but  there  is  no  doubt  among  the  faculty  that  love  is  a  con- 
tagious disease,  and  we  ought  not  to  come  within  miles  of 
the  creatures  in  whom  it  lodges. 

Pat's  tail  kept  hinting  to  his  mistress  that  a  change 
would  afford  him  satisfaction.  After  a  time  she  withdrew 
her  wistful  gaze  from  him,  and  listened  entirely  to  Ferdi- 
nand :  and  it  struck  her  that  he  spoke  particularly  well  to- 
day, though  she  did  not  see  so  much  in  his  eyes  as  in  Pat's. 
The  subject  concerned  his  departure,  and  he  asked  Rose  if 
she  should  be  sorry.  Rose,  to  make  him  sure  of  it,  threw 
a  music  into  her  voice  dangerous  to  friends.  For  she  had 
given  heart  and  soul  to  Evan,  and  had  a  sense,  therefore, 
of  being  irredeemably  in  debt  to  her  old  associates,  and 
wished  to  be  doubly  kind  to  them. 


252  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Pat  took  advantage  of  the  diversion  to  stand  up  quietly 
and  have  a  shake.  He  then  began  to  kiss  his  mistress's 
hand,  to  show  that  all  was  right  on  both  sides;  and  fol- 
lowed this  with  a  playful  pretence  at  a  bite,  that  there 
might  be  no  subsequent  misunderstanding,  and  then  a  bark 
and  a  whine.  As  no  attention  was  paid  to  this  amount  of 
plain-speaking,  Pat  made  a  bolt.  He  got  no  farther  than 
the  length  of  the  whip,  and  all  he  gained  was  to  bring  on 
himself  the  terrible  word  of  drill  once  more.  But  Pat  had 
tasted  liberty.  Irish  rebellion  against  constituted  authority 
was  exhibited.  Pat  would  not :  his  ears  tossed  over  his  head, 
and  he  jumped  to  right  and  left,  and  looked  the  raggedest 
rapparee  that  ever  his  ancestry  trotted  after.  Rose  laughed 
at  his  fruitless  efforts  to  get  free ;  but  Ferdinand  medita- 
tively appeared  to  catch  a  sentiment  in  them. 

"Down-charge,  sir,  will  you?  Ah,  Pat!  Pat!  You'll 
have  to  obey  me,  my  boy.     Now,  down-charge!" 

While  Rose  addressed  the  language  of  reason  to  Pat, 
Ferdinand  slipped  in  a  soft  word  or  two.  Presently  she 
saw  him  on  one  knee. 

"Pat  won't,  and  I  will,"  said  he. 

"But  Pat  shall,  and  you  had  better  not,"  said  she. 
"Besides,  my  dear  Ferdinand,"  she  added,  laughing,  "you 
don't  know  how  to  do  it." 

"Do  you  want  me  prostrate  on  all  fours,  Rose?" 

"No.  I  hope  not.  Do  get  up,  Ferdinand.  You'll  be 
seen  from  the  windows." 

Instead  of  quitting  his  posture,  he  caught  her  hand,  and 
scared  her  with  a  declaration. 

"Of  all  men,  you  to  be  on  your  knees!  and  to  me,  Ferdi- 
nand!" she  cried,  in  discomfort. 

"Why  shouldn't  I,  Rose?"  was  this  youth's  answer. 

He  had  got  the  idea  that  foreign  cavalier  manners  would 
take  with  her;  but  it  was  not  so  easy  to  make  his  speech 
correspond  with  his  posture,  and  he  lost  his  opportunity, 
which  was  pretty.  However,  he  spoke  plain  English.  The 
interview  ended  by  Rose  releasing  Pat  from  drill,  and  run- 
ning off  in  a  hurry.  Where  was  Evan?  she  must  have  his 
consent  to  speak  to  her  mother,  and  prevent  a  recurrence  of 
these  silly  scenes. 

Evan  was  with  Caroline,  his  sister. 


THE   STREAM  FLOWS  MUDDY  AND   CLEAR        253 

It  was  contrary  to  the  double  injunction  of  the  Countess 
that  Caroline  should  receive  Evan  during  her  absence,  or 
that  he  should  disturb  the  dear  invalid  with  a  visit.  These 
two  were  not  unlike  both  in  organization  and  character,  and 
they  had  not  sat  together  long  before  they  found  each  other 
out.  Now,  to  further  Evan's  love-suit,  the  Countess  had 
induced  Caroline  to  continue  yet  awhile  in  the  Purgatory 
Beckley  Court  had  become  to  her;  but  Evan,  in  speaking 
of  Rose,  expressed  a  determination  to  leave  her,  and  Caro- 
line caught  at  it. 

"Can  you?  —  will  you?  Oh,  dear  Van!  have  you  the 
courage?  I  —  look  at  me  —  you  know  the  home  I  go  to, 
and  —  and  I  think  of  it  here  as  a  place  to  be  happy  in. 
What  have  our  marriages  done  for  us?  Better  that  we  had 
mayried  simple  stupid  men  who  earn  their  bread,  and  would 
not  have  been  ashamed  of  us !  And,  my  dearest,  it  is  not 
only  that.  None  can  tell  what  our  temptations  are.  Louisa 
has  strength,  but  I  feel  I  have  none ;  and  though,  dear,  for 
your  true  interest,  I  would  indeed  sacrifice  myself  —  I 
would.  Van!  I  would!  —  it  is  not  good  for  you  to  stay, — 
I  know  it  is  not.  For  you  have  Papa's  sense  of  honour 
—  and  oh!  if  you  should  learn  to  despise  me,  my  dear 
brother ! " 

She  kissed  him ;  her  nerves  were  agitated  by  strong  men- 
tal excitement.  He  attributed  it  to  her  recent  attack  of 
illness,  but  could  not  help  asking,  while  he  caressed  her : 

"What's  that?     Despise  you?" 

It  may  have  been  that  Caroline  felt  then,  that  to  speak 
of  something  was  to  forfeit  something.  A  light  glimmered 
across  the  dewy  blue  of  her  beautiful  eyes.  Desire  to 
breathe  it  to  him,  and  have  his  loving  aid :  the  fear  of  for- 
feiting it,  evil  as  it  was  to  her,  and  at  the  bottom  of  all, 
that  doubt  we  choose  to  encourage  of  the  harm  in  a  pleasant 
sin  unaccomplished;  these  might  be  read  in  the  rich  dim 
gleam  that  swept  like  sunlight  over  sea-water  between 
breaks  of  cloud. 

"  Dear  Van !  do  you  love  her  so  much?  " 

Caroline  knew  too  well  that  she  was  shutting  her  own 
theme  with  iron  clasps  when  she  once  touched  on  Evan's. 

Love  her  ?  Love  Rose  ?  It  became  an  endless  carol 
with  Evan.     Caroline  sighed  for  him  from  her  heart. 


254  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"You  know  —  you  understand  me ;  don't  you?"  he  said, 
after  a  breathless  excursion  of  his  fancy. 

"  I  believe  you  love  her,  dear.  I  think  I  have  never  loved 
any  one  but  my  one  brother." 

His  love  for  Rose  he  could  pour  out  to  Caroline;  when  it 
came  to  Rose's  love  for  him  his  blood  thickened,  and  his 
tongue  felt  guilty.  He  must  speak  to  her,  he  said,  —  tell 
her  all. 

"Yes,  tell  her  all,"  echoed  Caroline.  "Do,  do  tell  her. 
Trust  a  woman  utterly  if  she  loves  you,  dear.  Go  to  her 
instantly." 

"  Could  you  bear  it?  "  said  Evan.  He  began  to  think  it 
was  for  the  sake  of  his  sisters  that  he  had  hesitated. 

"  Bear  it?  bear  anything  rather  than  perpetual  imposture. 
What  have  I  not  borne?  Tell  her,  and  then,  if  she  is  cold 
to  you,  let  us  go.  Let  us  go.  I  shall  be  glad  to.  Ah, 
Van!  I  love  you  so."  Caroline's  voice  deepened.  "I  love 
you  so,  my  dear.  You  won't  let  your  new  love  drive  me 
out?    Shall  you  always  love  me?" 

Of  that  she  might  be  sure,  whatever  happened. 

"Should  you  love  me,  Van,  if  evil  befel  me?" 

Thrice  as  well,  he  swore  to  her. 

"  But  if  I  —  if  I,  Van Oh !  my  life  is  intolerable ! 

Supposing  I  should  ever  disgrace  you  in  any  way,  and  not 
turn  out  all  you  fancied  me.     I  am  very  weak  and  unhappy. " 

Evan  kissed  her  confidently,  with  a  warm  smile.  He  said 
a  few  words  of  the  great  faith  he  had  in  her :  words  that 
were  bitter  comfort  to  Caroline.  This  brother  who  might 
save  her,  to  him  she  dared  not  speak.  Did  she  wish  to  be 
saved?  She  only  knew  that  to  wound  Evan's  sense  of 
honour  and  the  high  and  chivalrous  veneration  for  her  sex 
and  pride  in  himself  and  those  of  his  blood,  would  be  wicked 
and  unpardonable,  and  that  no  earthly  pleasure  could  drown 
it.  Thinking  this,  with  her  hands  joined  in  pale  dejection, 
Caroline  sat  silent,  and  Evan  left  her  to  lay  bare  his  heart 
to  Rose.  On  his  way  to  find  Rose  he  was  stopped  by  the 
announcement  of  the  arrival  of  Mr.  Raikes,  who  thrust  a 
bundle  of  notes  into  his  hand,  and  after  speaking  loudly  of 
"his  curricle,"  retired  on  important  business,  as  he  said, 
with  a  mysterious  air.  "  I'm  beaten  in  many  things,  but 
not  in  the  article  Luck,"  he  remarked;  "you  will  hear  of 
me,  though  hardly  as  a  tutor  in  this  academy." 


THE   STEEAM  FLOWS  MUDDY  AND   CLEAR        255 

Scanning  the  bundle  of  notes,  without  a  reflection  beyond 
the  thought  that  money  was  in  his  hand;  and  wondering  at 
the  apparition  of  the  curricle,  Evan  was  joined  by  Harry 
Jocelyn,  and  Harry  linked  his  arm  in  Evan's  and  plunged 
with  extraordinary  spontaneity  and  candour  into  the  state 
of  his  money  affairs.  What  the  deuce  he  was  to  do  for 
money  he  did  not  know.  Erom  the  impressive  manner  in 
which  he  put  it,  it  appeared  to  be  one  of  Nature's  great 
problems  that  the  whole  human  race  were  bound  to  set  their 
heads  together  to  solve.  A  hundred  pounds  —  Harry  wanted 
no  more,  and  he  could  not  get  it.  His  uncles?  they  were 
as  poor  as  rats ;  and  all  the  spare  money  they  could  club 
was  going  for  Mel's  Election  expenses,  A  hundred  and 
fifty  was  what  Harry  really  wanted;  but  he  could  do  with 
a  hundred.  Ferdinand,  who  had  plenty,  would  not  even 
lend  him  fifty.  Eerdinand  had  dared  to  hint  at  a  debt 
already  unsettled,  and  he  called  himself  a  gentleman ! 

"  You  wouldn't  speak  of  money  matters  now,  would  you, 
Harrington?  " 

"I  dislike  the  subject,  I  confess,"  said  Evan. 

"And  so  do  I."  Harry  jumped  at  the  perfect  similarity 
between  them.  "You  can't  think  how  it  bothers  one  to 
have  to  talk  about  it.     You  and  I  are  tremendously  alike," 

Evan  might  naturally  suppose  that  a  subject  Harry 
detested,  he  would  not  continue,  but  for  a  whole  hour 
Harry  turned  it  over  and  over  with  grim  glances  at  Jewry. 

"You  see,"  he  wound  up,  "I'm  in  a  fix.  I  want  to  help 
that  poor  girl,  and  one  or  two  things " 

"  It's  for  that  you  want  it?  "  cried  Evan,  brightening  to 
him.     "Accept  it  from  me." 

It  is  a  thing  familiar  to  the  experience  of  money-bor- 
rowers, that  your  "  last  chance  "  is  the  man  who  is  to  accom- 
modate you;  but  we  are  always  astonished,  nevertheless; 
and  Harry  was,  when  notes  to  the  amount  of  the  largest 
sum  named  by  him  were  placed  in  his  hand  by  one  whom 
he  looked  upon  as  the  last  to  lend, 

"  WJiat  a  trump  you  are,  Harrington!  "  was  all  he  could 
say;  and  then  he' was  for  hurrying  Evan  into  the  house,  to 
find  pen  and  paper,  and  write  down  a  memorandum  of  the 
loan:  but  Evan  insisted  upon  sparing  him  the  trouble, 
though  Harry,  with  the  admirable  scruples  of  an  inveterate 


256  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

borrower,  begged  hard  to  be  allowed  to  bind  himself  legally 
to  repay  the  money. 

"  'Pon  my  soul,  Harrington,  you  make  me  remember  I 
once  doubted  whether  you  were  one  of  us  —  rather  your  own 
fault,  you  know!  "  said  Harry;  "bury  that,  won't  you?" 

"Till  your  doubts  reour,"  Evan  observed;  and  Harry 
burst  out,  "  'Gad,  if  you  weren't  such  a  melancholy  beggar, 
you'd  be  the  joUiest  fellow  I  know !  There,  go  after  Rosey. 
Dashed  if  I  don't  think  you're  ahead  of  Ferdinand,  long 
chalks.     Your  style  does  for  girls,     /like  women." 

"With  a  chuckle  and  a  Avink,  Harry  swung  off.  Evan  had 
now  to  reflect  that  he  had  just  thrown  away  part  of  the  price 
of  his  bondage  to  Tailordom ;  the  mention  of  Rose  filled  his 
mind.  Where  was  she?  Both  were  seeking  one  another. 
Rose  was  in  the  cypress  walk.  He  saw  the  star-like  figure 
up  the  length  of  it,  between  the  swelling  tall  dark  pillars, 
and  was  hurrying  to  her,  resolute  not  to  let  one  minute  of 
deception  blacken  further  the  soul  that  loved  so  true  a  soul. 
She  saw  him,  and  stood  smiling,  when  the  Countess  issued, 
shadow-like,  from  a  side  path,  and  declared  that  she  must 
claim  her  brother  for  a  few  instants.  Would  her  sweet 
Rose  pardon  her?  Rose  bowed  coolly.  The  hearts  of  the 
lovers  were  chilled,  not  that  they  perceived  any  malice  in 
the  Countess,  but  their  keen  instincts  felt  an  evil  fate. 

The  Countess  had  but  to  tell  Evan  that  she  had  met  the 
insolvent  in  apples,  and  recognized  him  under  his  change  of 
fortune,  and  had  no  doubt  that  at  least  he  would  amuse  the 
company.  Then  she  asked  her  brother  the  superfluous  ques- 
tion, whether  he  loved  her,  which  Evan  answered  satisfacto- 
rily enough,  as  he  thought ;  but  practical  ladies  require  proofs. 

"Quick,"  said  Evan,  seeing  Rose  vanish,  "what  do  you 
want?     I'll  do  anything." 

"Anything?    Ah,  but  this  will  be  disagreeable  to  you." 

"Name  it  at  once.     I  promise  beforehand." 

The  Countess  wanted  Evan  to  ask  Andrew  to  be  the  very 
best  brother-in-law  in  the  world,  and  win,  unknown  to  him- 
self, her  cheerful  thanks,  by  lending  Evan  to  lend  to  her 
the  sum  of  one  hundred  pounds,  as  she  was  in  absolute 
distress  for  money. 

"  Really,  Louisa,  this  is  a  thing  you  might  ask  him  your- 
self," Evan  remonstrated. 


THE  STREAM  FLOWS  MUDDY  AND  CLEAR        257 

"  It  would  not  become  me  to  do  so,  dear, "  said  the  Countess, 
demurely;  and  inasmuch  as  she  had  already  drawn  on 
Andrew  in  her  own  person  pretty  largely,  her  views  of 
propriety  were  correct  in  this  instance. 

Evan  had  to  consent  before  he  could  be  released.  He 
ran  to  the  end  of  the  walk  through  the  portal,  into  the 
park.  Eose  was  not  to  be  seen.  She  had  gone  in  to  dress 
for  dinner.  The  opportunity  might  recur,  but  would  his 
courage  come  with  it?  His  courage  had  sunk  on  a  sudden; 
or  it  may  have  been  that  it  was  worse  for  this  young  man 
to  ask  for  a  loan  of  money,  than  to  tell  his  beloved  that  he 
was  basely  born,  vile,  and  unworthy,  and  had  snared  her 
into  loving  him ;  for  when  he  and  Andrew  were  together, 
money  was  not  alluded  to.  Andrew,  however,  betrayed 
remarkable  discomposure.  He  said  plainly  that  he  wanted 
to  leave  Beckley  Court,  and  wondered  why  he  didn't  leave, 
and  whether  he  was  on  his  head  or  his  feet,  and  how  he  had 
been  such  a  fool  as  to  come. 

"Do  you  mean  that  for  me?"  said  sensitive  Evan. 

"Oh,  you!  You're  a  young  buck,"  returned  Andrew, 
evasively.  "We  common-place  business  men  —  we're  out 
of  our  element;  and  there's  poor  Carry  can't  sit  down  to 
their  dinners  without  an  upset.  I  thank  God  I'm  a  Radi- 
cal, Van ;  one  man's  the  same  as  another  to  me,  how  he's 
born,  as  long  as  he's  honest  and  agreeable.  But  a  chap  like 
that  George  Uploft  to  look  down  on  anybody!  'Gad,  I've 
a  good  mind  to  bring  in  a  Bill  for  the  Abolition  of  the 
Squirearchy." 

Ultimately,  Andrew  somehow  contrived  to  stick  a  hint 
or  two  about  the  terrible  dinner  in  Evan's  quivering  flesh. 
He  did  it  as  delicately  as  possible,  half  begging  pardon,  and 
perspiring  profusely.  Evan  grasped  his  hand,  and  thanked 
him.     Caroline's  illness  was  now  explained  to  him. 

"  I'll  take  Caroline  with  me  to-morrow, "  he  said.  "  Louisa 
wishes  to  stay  —  there's  a  pic-nic.  Will  you  look  to  her, 
and  bring  her  with  you?  " 

"My  dear  Van,"  replied  Andrew,  "stop  with  Louisa? 
Now,  in  confidence,  it's  as  bad  as  a  couple  of  wives;  no 
disrespect  to  my  excellent  good  Harry  at  home ;  but  Louisa 
—  I  don't  know  how  it  is  —  but  Louisa, — you  lose  your 
head,  you're  in  a  whirl,  you're  an  automaton,  a  teetotum! 


258  fiVAN  HARRINGTON 

I  haven't  a  notion  of  what  I've  been  doing  or  saying  since  I 
came  here.  My  belief  is,  I've  been  lying  right  and  left. 
I  shall  be  found  out  to  a  certainty.  Oh!  if  she's  made  her 
mind  up  for  the  pic-nic,  somebody  must  stop.  I  can  only 
tell  you,  Van,  it's  one  perpetual  vapour-bath  to  me. 
There'll  be  room  for  two  in  my  trousers  when  I  get  back. 
I  shall  have  to  get  the  tailor  to  take  them  in  a  full  half." 

Here  occurred  an  opening  for  one  of  those  acrid  pleas- 
antries which  console  us  when  there  is  horrid  warfare 
within. 

"You  must  give  me  the  work,"  said  Evan,  partly  pleased 
with  his  hated  self  for  being  able  to  jest  on  the  subject,  as 
a  piece  of  preliminary  self -conquest. 

"  Aha ! "  went  Andrew,  as  if  the  joke  were  too  good  to  be 
dwelt  on ;  "  Hem ;  "  and  by  way  of  diverting  from  it  cleverly 
and  naturally,  he  remarked  that  the  weather  was  fine.  This 
made  Evan  allude  to  his  letter  written  from  Lymport,  upon 
which  Andrew  said :  "tush!  pish!  humbug!  nonsense!  won't 
hear  a  word.  Don't  know  anything  about  it.  Van,  you're 
going  to  be  a  brewer.  I  say  you  are.  You're  afraid  you 
can't?  I  tell  you,  sir,  I've  got  a  bet  on  it.  You're  not 
going  to  make  me  lose,  are  you  —  eh?  I  have,  and  a  stiff 
bet,  too.  You  must  and  shall,  so  there's  an  end.  Only  we 
can't  make  arrangements  just  yet,  my  boy.  Old  Tom  — 
very  good  old  fellow  —  but,  you  know  —  must  get  old  Tom 
out  of  the  way,  first.  Now  go  and  dress  for  dinner.  And 
Lord  preserve  us  from  the  Great  Mel  to-day ! "  Andrew 
mumbled  as  he  turned  away. 

Evan  could  not  reach  his  chamber  without  being  waylaid 
by  the  Countess.  Had  he  remembered  the  sister  who  sacri- 
ficed so  much  for  him  ?  "  There,  there ! "  cried  Evan,  and 
her  hand  closed  on  the  delicious  golden  whispers  of  bank- 
notes. And  "  Oh,  generous  Andrew !  dear  good  Evan ! " 
were  the  exclamations  of  the  gratified  lady. 

There  remained  nearly  another  hundred.  Evan  laid  out 
the  notes,  and  eyed  them  while  dressing.  They  seemed  to 
say  to  him,  "  We  have  you  now."  He  was  clutched  by 
a  beneficent  or  a  most  malignant  magician.  The  former 
seemed  due  to  him,  considering  the  cloud  on  his  fortunes. 
This  enigma  might  mean,  that  by  submitting  to  a  temporary 
humiliation,  for  a  trial  of  him  —  in  fact,  by  his  acknow- 


THE  STREAM  FLOWS  MUDDY  AND  CLEAB        259 

ledgement  of  the  fact,  loathed  though  it  was  —  he  ■won  a 
secret  overlooker's  esteem,  gained  a  powerful  ally.  Here 
was  the  proof,  he  held  the  proof.  He  had  read  Arabian 
Tales  and  could  believe  in  marvels;  especially  could  he 
believe  in  the  friendliness  of  a  magical  thing  that  astounded 
without  hurting  him. 

He  sat  down  in  his  room  at  night  and  wrote  a  fairly 
manful  letter  to  Rose;  and  it  is  to  be  said  of  the  wretch 
he  then  saw  himself,  that  he  pardoned  her  for  turning  from 
so  vile  a  pretender.  He  heard  a  step  in  the  passage.  It 
was  Polly  Wheedle.  Polly  had  put  her  young  mistress  to 
bed,  and  was  retiring  to  her  own  slumbers.  He  made  her 
take  the  letter  and  promise  to  deliver  it  immediately. 
Would  not  to-morrow  morning  do,  she  asked,  as  Miss  Rose 
was  very  sleepy.  He  seemed  to  hesitate  —  he  was  pictur- 
ing how  Rose  looked  when  very  sleepy.  Why  should 
he  surrender  this  darling?  And  subtler  question  —  why 
should  he  make  her  unhappy  ?  Why  disturb  her  at  all 
in  her  sweet  sleep  ? 

"  Well,"  said  Evan.  "  To-morrow  will  do.  —  No,  take  it 
to-night,  for  God's  sake ! "  he  cried,  as  one  who  bursts  the 
spell  of  an  opiate.  "Go  at  once."  The  temptation  had 
almost  overcome  him. 

Polly  thought  his  proceedings  queer.  And  what  could 
the  letter  contain  ?  A  declaration,  of  course.  She  walked 
slowly  along  the  passage,  meditating  on  love,  and  remotely 
on  its  slave,  Mr.  Nicholas  Frim.  Nicholas  had  never  written 
her  a  letter;  but  she  was  determined  that  he  should,  some 
day.  She  wondered  what  love-letters  were  like?  Like 
valentines  without  the  Cupids.  Practical  valentines,  one 
might  say.  Not  vapoury  and  wild,  but  hot  and  to  the 
point.  Delightful  things!  No  harm  in  peeping  at  a  love- 
letter,  if  you  do  it  with  the  eye  of  a  friend. 

Polly  spelt  just  a  word  when  a  door  opened  at  her 
elbow.  She  dropped  her  candle  and  curtsied  to  the  Count- 
ess's voice.  The  Countess  desired  her  to  enter,  and  all  in 
a  tremble  Polly  crept  in.  Her  air  of  guilt  made  the  Count- 
ess thrill.  She  had  merely  called  her  in  to  extract  daily 
gossip.  The  corner  of  the  letter  sticking  up  under  Polly's 
neck  attracted  her  strangely,  and  beginning  with  the  famil- 
iar, "  Well,  child,"  she  talked  of  things  interesting  to  Polly, 


260  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

and  then  exhibited  the  pic-nic  dress.  It  was  a  lovely  half- 
mourning;  airy  sorrows,  gauzy  griefs,  you  might  imagine 
to  constitute  the  wearer.  Wliite  delicately  striped,  exqui- 
sitely trimmed,  and  of  a  stuff  to  make  the  feminine  mouth 
water ! 

Could  Polly  refuse  to  try  it  on,  when  the  flattering  pro- 
posal met  her  ears  ?  Blushing,  shame-faced,  adoring  the 
lady  who  made  her  look  adorable,  Polly  tried  it  on,  and  the 
Countess  complimented  her,  and  made  a  doll  of  her,  and 
turned  her  this  way  and  that  way,  and  intoxicated  her. 

"  A  rich  husband,  Polly,  child !  and  you  are  a  lady  ready 
made." 

Infamous  poison  to  poor  Polly ;  but  as  the  thunder  destroys 
small  insects,  exalted  schemers  are  to  be  excused  for  riding 
down  their  few  thousands.  Moreover,  the  Countess  really 
looked  upon  domestics  as  being  only  half-souls. 

Pressed  in  her  own  attire  again,  Polly  felt  in  her  pockets, 
and  at  her  bosom,  and  sang  out :  "  Oh,  my !  Oh,  where ! 
Oh!" 

The  letter  was  lost.  The  letter  could  not  be  found.  The 
Countess  grew  extremely  fatigued,  and  had  to  dismiss  Polly, 
in  spite  of  her  eager  petitions  to  be  allowed  to  search  under 
the  carpets  and  inside  the  bed. 

In  the  morning  came  Evan's  great  trial.  There  stood  Rose. 
She  turned  to  him,  and  her  eyes  were  happy  and  unclouded 

"  You  are  not  changed  ?  "  he  said. 

"  Changed  ?  what  could  change  me  ?  " 

The  God  of  true  hearts  bless  her !  He  could  hardly  be- 
lieve it. 

"  You  are  the  Rose  I  knew  yesterday  ?  " 

"Yes,  Evan.  But  you  —  you  look  as  if  you  had  not 
slept." 

"  You  will  not  leave  me  this  morning,  before  I  go.  Rose  ? 
Oh,  my  darling !  this  that  you  do  for  me  is  the  work  of  an 
angel  —  nothing  less !  I  have  been  a  coward.  And  my 
beloved!  to  feel  vile  is  agony  to  me  —  it  makes  me  feel 
unworthy  of  the  hand  I  press.  Now  all  is  clear  between  us. 
I  go :  I  am  forgiven." 

Rose  repeated  his  last  words,  and  then  added  hurriedly  : 
"  All  is  clear  between  us  ?  Shall  I  speak  to  Mama  this 
morning  ?     Dear  Evan !  it  will  be  right  that  I  should." 


THE  STREAM  FLOWS   MUDDY   AND   CLEAR        261 

For  the  moment  he  could  not  understand  why,  but  suppos- 
ing a  scrupulous  honesty  in  her,  said :  "  Yes :  tell  Lady 
Jocelyn  all." 

"  And  then,  Evan,  you  will  never  need  to  go." 

They  separated.  The  deep-toned  sentence  sang  in  Evan's 
heart.  Rose  and  her  mother  were  of  one  stamp.  And  Rose 
might  speak  for  her  mother.  To  take  the  hands  of  such  a 
pair  and  be  lifted  out  of  the  slough,  he  thought  no  shame : 
and  all  through  the  hours  of  the  morning  the  image  of  two 
angels  stooping  to  touch  a  leper,  pressed  on  his  brain  like  a 
reality,  and  went  divinely  through  his  blood. 

Toward  mid-day  Rose  beckoned  to  him,  and  led  him  out 
across  the  lawn  into  the  park,  and  along  the  borders  of  the 
stream. 

"  Evan,"  she  said,  "  shall  I  really  speak  to  Mama  ?  " 

"  You  have  not  yet  ?  "  he  answered. 

"No.  I  have  been  with  Juliana  and  with  Drummond. 
Look  at  this,  Evan."  She  showed  a  small  black  speck  in  the 
palm  of  her  hand,  which  turned  out,  on  your  viewing  it 
closely,  to  be  a  brand  of  the  letter  L.  "  Mama  did  that  when 
I  was  a  little  girl,  because  I  told  lies.  I  never  could  dis- 
tinguish between  truth  and  falsehood ;  and  Mama  set  that 
mark  on  me,  and  I  have  never  told  a  lie  since.  She  forgives 
anything  but  that.  She  will  be  our  friend;  she  will  never 
forsake  us,  Evan,  if  we  do  not  deceive  her.  Oh,  Evan !  it 
never  is  of  any  use.  But  deceive  her,  and  she  cannot  for- 
give you.     It  is  not  in  her  nature." 

Evan  paused  before  he  replied :  "  You  have  only  to  tell 
her  what  I  have  told  you.     You  know  everything." 

Rose  gave  him  a  flying  look  of  pain :  "  Everything,  Evan  ? 
What  do  I  know  ?  " 

"  Ah,  Rose  !  do  you  compel  me  to  repeat  it  ?  " 

Bewildered,  Rose  thought :  "  Have  I  slept  and  forgotten 
it?" 

He  saw  the  persistent  grieved  interrogation  of  her  eye- 
brows. 

"  Well ! "  she  sighed  resignedly :  "  I  am  yours ;  you  know 
that,  Evan." 

But  he  was  a  lover,  and  quarrelled  with  her  sigh. 

"  It  may  well  make  you  sad  now,  Rose." 

"  Sad  ?  no,  that  does  not  make  me  sad.    No ;  but  my 


262  EVAN   HAREINGTON 

hands  axe  tied.  I  cannot  defend  you  or  justify  myself,  and 
induce  Mama  to  stand  by  us.  Oh,  Evan !  you  love  me !  why 
can  you  not  open  your  heart  to  me  entirely,  and  trust  me  ?  " 

"  More  ?  "  cried  Evan :  "  Can  I  trust  you  more  ?  "  He 
spoke  of  the  letter :  Rose  caught  his  hand, 

"  I  never  had  it,  Evan.  You  wrote  it  last  night  ?  and  all 
was  written  in  it  ?     I  never  saw  it  —  but  I  know  all." 

Their  eyes  fronted.  The  gates  of  Rose's  were  wide  open, 
and  he  saw  no  hurtful  beasts  or  lurking  snakes  in  the  happy 
garden  within,  but  Love,  like  a  fixed  star. 

**  Then  you  know  why  I  must  leave.  Rose." 

"  Leave  ?  Leave  me  f  On  the  contrary,  you  must  stay 
by  me,  and  support  me.  Why,  Evan,  we  have  to  fight  a 
battle." 

Much  as  he  worshipped  her,  this  intrepid  directness  of 
soul  startled  him  —  almost  humbled  him.  And  her  eyes 
shone  with  a  firm  cheerful  light,  as  she  exclaimed:  "It 
makes  me  so  happy  to  think  you  were  the  first  to  mention 
this.  You  meant  to  be,  and  that's  the  same  thing.  I  heard 
it  this  morning :  you  wrote  it  last  night.  It's  you  I  love, 
Evan.  Your  birth,  and  what  you  were  obliged  to  do  —  that's 
nothing.  Of  course  I'm  sorry  for  it,  dear.  But  I'm  more 
sorry  for  the  pain  I  must  have  sometimes  put  you  to.  It 
happened  through  my  mother's  father  being  a  merchant; 
and  that  side  of  the  family  the  men  and  women  are  quite 
sordid  and  unendurable ;  and  that's  how  it  came  that  I  spoke 
of  disliking  tradesmen.  I  little  thought  I  should  ever  love 
one  sprung  from  that  class." 

She  turned  to  him  tenderly. 

"  And  in  spite  of  what  my  birth  is,  you  love  me,  Rose  ?  " 

"  There's  no  spite  in  it,  Evan.     I  do." 

Hard  for  him,  while  his  heart  was  melting  to  caress  her, 
the  thought  that  he  had  snared  this  bird  of  heaven  in  a  net ! 
Rose  gave  him  no  time  for  reflection,  or  the  moony  imagin- 
ing of  their  raptures  lovers  love  to  dwell  upon. 

"  You  gave  the  letter  to  Polly,  of  course  ?  " 

"  Yes." 

"  Oh,  naughty  Polly !  I  must  punish  you,"  Rose  apostro- 
phized her.  "  You  might  have  divided  us  for  ever.  Well, 
we  shall  have  to  fight  a  battle,  you  understand  that.  Will 
you  stand  by  me  ?  " 


THE   STREAM   FLOWS  MUDDY   AND   CLEAR        263 

Would  he  not  risk  his  soul  for  her  ? 

"Very  well,  Evan.  Then  —  but  don't  be  sensitive.  Oh, 
how  sensitive  you  are !  I  see  it  all  now.  This  is  what  we 
shall  have  to  do.  We  shall  have  to  speak  to  Mama  to-day 
—  this  morning.  Drummond  has  told  me  he  is  going  to 
speak  to  her,  and  we  must  be  first.  That's  decided,  I 
begged  a  couple  of  hours.  You  must  not  be  offended  with 
Drummond.  He  does  it  out  of  pure  affection  for  us,  and  I 
can  see  he's  right  —  or,  at  least,  not  quite  wrong.  He  ought, 
I  think,  to  know  that  he  cannot  change  me.  Very  well,  we 
shall  win  Mama  by  what  we  do.  My  mother  has  ten  times 
my  wits,  and  yet  I  manage  her  like  a  feather.  I  have  only 
to  be  honest  and  straightforward.  Then  Mama  will  gain 
over  Papa.  Papa,  of  course,  won't  like  it.  He's  quiet  and 
easy,  but  he  likes  blood,  but  he  also  likes  peace  better ;  and 
I  think  he  loves  Rosey  —  as  well  as  somebody  —  almost? 
Look,  dear,  there  is  our  seat  where  we  —  where  you  would 
rob  me  of  my  handkerchief.     I  can't  talk  any  more." 

Rose  had  suddenly  fallen  from  her  prattle,  soft  and  short- 
breathed. 

"  Then,  dear,"  she  went  on,  "  we  shall  have  to  fight  the 
family.  Aunt  Shorne  will  be  terrible.  My  poor  uncles !  I 
pity  them.  But  they  will  come  round.  They  always  have 
thought  what  I  did  was  right,  and  why  should  they  change 
their  minds  now  ?  I  shall  tell  them  that  at  their  time  of 
life  a  change  of  any  kind  is  very  unwise  and  bad  for  them. 
Then  there  is  Grandmama  Bonner.  She  can  hurt  us  really, 
if  she  pleases.  Oh,  my  dear  Evan !  if  you  had  only  been  a 
curate  !  Why  isn't  your  name  Parsley  ?  Then  my  Grand- 
mama  the  Countess  of  Elburne.  Well,  we  have  a  Countess 
on  our  side,  haven't  we  ?  And  that  reminds  me,  Evan,  if 
we're  to  be  happy  and  succeed,  you  must  promise  one  thing : 
you  will  not  tell  the  Countess,  your  sister.  Don't  confide 
this  to  her.     Will  you  promise  ?  " 

Evan  assured  her  he  was  not  in  the  habit  of  pouring 
secrets  into  any  bosom,  the  Countess's  as  little  as  another's. 

"  Very  well,  then,  Evan,  it's  unpleasant  while  it  lasts,  but 
we  shall  gain  the  day.  Uncle  Melville  will  give  you  an 
appointment,  and  then  ?  " 

"Yes,  Rose,"  he  said,  "I  will  do  this,  though  I  don't 
think  you  can  know  what  I  shall  have  to  endure  —  not  in 


264  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

confessing  what  I  am,  but  in  feeling  that  I  have  brought 
you  to  my  level." 

"  Does  it  not  raise  me  ?  "  she  cried. 

He  shook  his  head. 

"  But  in  reality,  Evan  —  apart  from  mere  appearances  — 
in  reality  it  does  !  it  does !  " 

"  Men  will  not  think  so.  Rose,  nor  can  I.  Oh,  my  Rose ! 
how  different  you  make  me.  Up  to  this  hour  I  have  been 
so  weak  !  torn  two  ways  !     You  give  me  double  strength." 

Then  these  lovers  talked  of  distant  days  —  compared  their 
feelings  on  this  and  that  occasion  with  mutual  wonder  and 
delight.  Then  the  old  hours  lived  anew.  And  —  did  you 
really  think  that,  Evan  ?  And  —  Oh,  Rose !  was  that  your 
dream  ?  And  the  meaning  of  that  by-gone  look :  was  it  what 
they  fancied  ?  And  such  and  such  a  tone  of  voice ;  would 
it  bear  the  wished  interpretation  ?  Thus  does  Love  avenge 
himself  on  the  unsatisfactory  Past  and  call  out  its  essence. 

Could  Evan  do  less  than  adore  her  ?  She  knew  all,  and 
she  loved  him !  Since  he  was  too  shy  to  allude  more  than 
once  to  his  letter,  it  was  natural  that  he  should  not  ask  her 
how  she  came  to  know,  and  how  much  the  "  all "  that  she 
knew  comprised.  In  his  letter  he  had  told  all ;  the  condi- 
tion of  his  parents,  and  his  own.  Honestly,  now,  what  with 
his  dazzled  state  of  mind,  his  deep  inward  happiness,  and 
love's  endless  delusions,  he  abstained  from  touching  the  sub- 
ject further.  Honestly,  therefore,  as  far  as  a  lover  can  be 
honest. 

So  they  toyed,  and  then  Rose,  setting  her  fingers  loose, 
whispered:  "Are  you  ready?"  And  Evan  nodded;  and 
Rose,  to  make  him  think  light  of  the  matter  in  hand, 
laughed:  "Pluck  not  quite  up  yet?" 

"  Quite,  my  Rose ! "  said  Evan,  and  they  walked  to  the 
house,  not  quite  knowing  what  they  were  going  to  do. 

On  the  steps  they  met  Drummond  with  Mrs.  Evremonde. 
Little  imagining  how  heart  and  heart  the  two  had  grown, 
and  that  Evan  would  understand  him,  Drummond  called  to 
Rose  playfully  :  "  Time's  up." 

"  Is  it  ?  "  Rose  answered,  and  to  Mrs.  Evremonde :  "  Give 
Drummond  a  walk.     Poor  Drummond  is  going  silly." 

Evan  looked  into  his  eyes  calmly  as  he  passed. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Rose  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Evremonde. 


MRS.  MEL  MAKES   A   BED  265 

"  Going  to  give  my  maid  Polly  a  whipping  for  losing  a 
letter  she  ought  to  have  delivered  to  me  last  night,"  said 
Eose,  in  a  loud  voice,  looking  at  Dnimmond.  "  And  then 
going  to  Mama.  Pleasure  first  —  duty  after.  Isn't  that 
the  proverb,  Drummond  ?  " 

She  kissed  her  fingers  rather  scornfully  to  her  old  friend. 


CHAPTER  XXVI 

MBS.    ME'L   MAKES    A    BED    FOR   HERSELF   ANTi   FAMILY 

The  last  person  thought  of  by  her  children  at  this  period 
was  Mrs.  Mel :  nor  had  she  been  thinking  much  of  them  till 
a  letter  from  Mr.  Goren  arrived  one  day,  which  caused  her 
to  pass  them  seriously  in  review.  Always  an  early  bird,  and 
with  maxims  of  her  own  on  the  subject  of  rising  and  getting 
the  worm,  she  was  standing  in  a  small  perch  in  the  corner 
of  the  shop,  dictating  accounts  to  Mrs.  Fiske,  who  was  copy- 
ing hurriedly,  that  she  might  earn  sweet  intervals  for  gossip, 
when  Dandy  limped  up  and  delivered  the  letter.  Mrs.  Fiske 
worked  hard  while  her  aunt  was  occupied  in  reading  it,  for 
a  great  deal  of  fresh  talk  follows  the  advent  of  the  post,  and 
may  be  reckoned  on.  Without  looking  up,  however,  she  could 
tell  presently  that  the  letter  had  been  read  through.  Such 
being  the  case,  and  no  conversation  coming  of  it,  her  curi- 
osity was  violent.  Her  aunt's  face,  too,  was  an  index  of 
something  extraordinary.  That  inflexible  woman,  instead 
of  alluding  to  the  letter  in  any  way,  folded  it  up,  and  re- 
newed her  dictation.  It  became  a  contest  between  them 
which  should  show  her  human  nature  first.  Mrs.  Mel  had 
to  repress  what  she  knew;  Mrs.  Fiske  to  control  the  pas- 
sion for  intelligence.  The  close  neighbourhood  of  one  anx- 
ious to  receive,  and  one  capable  of  giving,  waxed  too  much 
for  both. 

"I  think,  Ann,  you  are  stupid  this  morning,"  said  Mrs. 
Mel. 

"  Well,  I  am,  aunt,"  said  Mrs.  Fiske,  pretending  not  to  see 
which  was  the  first  to  unbend,  "  I  don't  know  what  it  is. 


266  EVAN  HARBINGTON 

The  figures  seem  all  dazzled  like.  I  shall  really  be  glad 
when  Evan  comes  to  take  his  proper  place." 

"  Ah ! "  went  Mrs.  Mel,  and  Mrs.  Fiske  heard  her  mutter- 
ing. Then  she  cried  out:  "Are  Harriet  and  Caroline  as 
great  liars  as  Louisa  ?  " 

Mrs.  Fiske  grimaced.  "That  would  be  difficult,  would  it 
not,  aunt?" 

"  And  I  have  been  telling  everybody  that  my  son  is  in 
town  learning  his  business,  when  he's  idling  at  a  country 
house,  and  trying  to  play  his  father  over  again !  Upon  my 
word,  what  with  liars  and  fools,  if  you  go  to  sleep  a  minute 
you  have  a  month's  work  on  your  back." 

"  What  is  it,  aunt  ?  "  Mrs.  Fiske  feebly  inquired. 

"  A  gentleman,  I  suppose !  He  wouldn't  take  an  order  if 
it  was  offered.  Upon  my  word,  when  tailors  think  of  win- 
ning heiresses  it's  time  we  went  back  to  Adam  and  Eve." 

"  Do  you  mean  Evan,  aunt  ?  "  interposed  Mrs.  Fiske,  who 
probably  did  not  see  the  turns  in  her  aunt's  mind. 

"  There  —  read  for  yourself,"  said  Mrs.  Mel,  and  left  her 
with  the  letter. 

Mrs.  Fiske  read  that  Mr.  Goren  had  been  astonished  at 
Evan's  non-appearance,  and  at  his  total  silence ;  which  he 
did  not  consider  altogether  gentlemanly  behaviour,  and  cer- 
tainly not  such  as  his  father  would  have  practised.  Mr. 
Goren  regretted  his  absence  the  more  as  he  would  have 
found  him  useful  in  a  remarkable  invention  he  was  about  to 
patent,  being  a  peculiar  red  cross  upon  shirts  —  a  fortune  to 
the  patentee ;  but  as  Mr.  Goren  had  no  natural  heirs  of  his 
body,  he  did  not  care  for  that.  What  affected  him  pain- 
fully was  the  news  of  Evan's  doings  at  a  noble  hoiise, 
Beckley  Court,  to  wit,  where,  according  to  the  report  of  a 
rich  young  gentleman  friend,  Mr.  Raikes  (for  whose  custom 
Mr.  Goren  was  bound  to  thank  Evan),  the  youth  who  should 
have  been  learning  the  science  of  Tailoring,  had  actually 
passed  himself  off  as  a  lord,  or  the  son  of  one,  or  something 
of  the  kind,  and  had  got  engaged  to  a  wealthy  heiress,  and 
would,  no  doubt,  marry  her  if  not  found  out.  Where  the 
chances  of  detection  were  so  numerous,  Mr.  Goren  saw  much 
to  condemn  in  the  idea  of  such  a  marriage.  But  "like 
father  like  son,"  said  Mr.  Goren.  He  thanked  the  Lord 
that  an  honest  tradesman  was  not  looked  down  upon  in  this 


MRS.  MEL  MAKES   A   BED  267 

country;  and,  in  fact,  gave  Mrs.  Mel  a  few  quiet  digs  to 
waken  her  remorse  in  having  missed  the  man  that  he  was. 

When  Mrs.  Piske  met  her  aunt  again  she  returned  her  the 
letter,  and  simply  remarked :  "  Louisa." 

Mrs.  Mel  nodded.     She  understood  the  implication. 

The  General  who  had  schemed  so  successfully  to  gain 
Evan  time  at  Beckley  Court,  in  his  own  despite  and  against 
a  hundred  obstructions,  had  now  another  enemy  in  the  field, 
and  one  who,  if  she  could  not  undo  her  work,  could  punish 
her.  By  the  afternoon  coach,  Mrs.  Mel,  accompanied  by 
Dandy  her  squire,  was  journeying  to  Fallowfield,  bent  upon 
things.  The  faithful  squire  was  kept  by  her  side  rather  as 
a  security  for  others  than  for  his  particular  services. 
Dandy's  arms  were  crossed,  and  his  countenance  was 
gloomy.  He  had  been  promised  a  holiday  that  afternoon 
to  give  his  mistress,  Sally,  Kilne's  cook,  an  airing,  and 
Dandy  knew  in  his  soul  that  Sally,  when  she  once  made  up 
her  mind  to  an  excursion,  would  go,  and  would  not  go  alone, 
and  that  her  very  force  of  will  endangered  her  constancy. 
He  had  begged  humbly  to  be  allowed  to  stay,  but  Mrs.  Mel 
could  not  trust  him.  She  ought  to  have  told  him  so,  per- 
haps. Explanations  were  not  approved  of  by  this  well- 
intended  despot,  and  however  beneficial  her  resolves  might 
turn  out  for  all  parties,  it  was  natural  that  in  the  interim 
the  children  of  her  rule  should  revolt,  and  Dandy,  picturing 
his  Sally  flaunting  on  the  arm  of  some  accursed  low  marine, 
haply,  kicked  against  Mrs.  Mel's  sovereignty,  though  all 
that  he  did  was  to  shoot  out  his  fist  from  time  to  time,  and 
grunt  through  his  set  teeth :  "  Iron ! "  to  express  the  char- 
acter of  her  awful  rule. 

Mrs.  Mel  alighted  at  the  Dolphin,  the  landlady  of  which 
was  a  Mrs.  Hawkshaw,  a  rival  of  Mrs.  Sockley  of  the  Green 
Dragon.  She  was  welcomed  by  Mrs.  Hawkshaw  with  con- 
siderable respect.  The  great  Mel  had  sometimes  slept  at 
the  Dolphin. 

"Ah,  that  black!"  she  sighed,  indicating  Mrs.  Mel's 
dress  and  the  story  it  told. 

"  I  can't  give  you  his  room,  my  dear  Mrs.  Harrington,  — 
wishing  I  could !  I'm  sorry  to  say  it's  occupied,  for  all  I 
ought  to  be  glad,  I  dare  say,  for  he's  an  old  gentleman  who 
does  you  a  good  turn,  if  you  study  him.     But  there !    I'd 


268  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

rather  have  had  poor  dear  Mr.  Harrington  in  my  best  bed 
than  old  or  young  —  Princes  or  nobodies,  I  would  —  he  was 
that  grand  and  pleasant." 

Mrs.  Mel  had  her  tea  in  Mrs.  Hawkshaw's  parlour,  and 
was  entertained  about  her  husband  up  to  the  hour  of  sup- 
per, when  a  short  step  and  a  querulous  voice  were  heard  in 
the  passage,  and  an  old  gentleman  appeared  before  them. 

"  Who's  to  carry  up  ray  trunk,  ma'am  ?    No  man  here  ?  " 

Mrs.  Hawkshaw  bustled  out  and  tried  to  lay  her  hand  on 
a  man.  Failing  to  find  the  growth  spontaneous,  she  returned 
and  begged  the  old  gentleman  to  wait  a  few  moments  and 
the  trunk  would  be  sent  up. 

"  Parcel  o'  women ! "  was  his  reply.  "  Regularly  be- 
devilled.    Gets  worse  and  worse.     I'll  carry  it  up  myself." 

With  a  wheezy  effort  he  persuaded  the  trunk  to  stand  on 
one  end,  and  then  looked  at  it.  The  exertion  made  him 
hot,  which  may  account  for  the  rage  he  burst  into  when 
Mrs.  Hawkshaw  began  flutteringly  to  apologize. 

"You're  sure,  ma'am,  sure  —  what  are  you  sure  of?  I'll 
tell  you  what  I  am  sure  of — eh?  This  keeping  clear  of 
men's  a  damned  pretence.  You  don't  impose  upon  me. 
Don't  believe  in  your  pothouse  nunneries  —  not  a  bit. 
Just  like  you!  when  you  are  virtuous  it's  deuced  incon- 
venient. Let  one  of  the  maids  try  ?  No.  Don't  believe 
in  'em." 

Having  thus  relieved  his  spleen  the  old  gentleman  ad- 
dressed himself  to  further  efforts  and  waxed  hotter.  He 
managed  to  tilt  the  trunk  over,  and  thus  gained  a  length, 
and  by  this  method  of  progression  arrived  at  the  foot  of  the 
stairs,  where  he  halted,  and  wiped  his  face,  blowing  lustily. 

Mrs.  Mel  had  been  watching  him  with  calm  scorn  all  the 
while.  She  saw  him  attempt  most  ridiculously  to  impel  the 
trunk  upwards  by  a  similar  process,  and  thought  it  time  to 
interfere. 

"  Don't  you  see  you  must  either  take  it  on  your  shoulders, 
or  have  a  help  ?  " 

The  old  gentleman  sprang  up  from  his  peculiarly  tight 
posture  to  blaze  round  at  her.  He  had  the  words  well- 
peppered  on  his  mouth,  but  somehow  he  stopped,  and  was 
subsequently  content  to  growl :  "  Where's  the  help  in  a 
parcel  of  petticoats  ?  " 


MRS.  MEL   MAKES   A   BED  269 

Mrs.  Mel  did  not  consider  it  necessary  to  give  him  an 
answer.  She  went  up  two  or  three  steps,  and  took  hold  of 
one  handle  of  the  trunk,  saying:  "There;  I  think  it  can  be 
managed  this  way,"  and  she  pointed  for  him  to  seize  the 
other  end  with  his  hand. 

He  was  now  in  that  unpleasant  state  of  prickly  heat 
when  testy  old  gentlemen  could  commit  slaughter  with 
ecstasy.  Had  it  been  the  maid  holding  a  candle  who  had 
dared  to  advise,  he  would  have  overturned  her  undoubtedly, 
and  established  a  fresh  instance  of  the  impertinence,  the 
uselessness  and  weakness  of  women.  Mrs.  Mel  topped  him 
by  half  a  head,  and  in  addition  stood  three  steps  above  him ; 
towering  like  a  giantess.  The  extreme  gravity  of  her  large 
face  dispersed  all  idea  of  an  assault.  The  old  gentleman 
showed  signs  of  being  horribly  injured:  nevertheless,  he 
put  his  hand  to  the  trunk ;  it  was  lifted,  and  the  procession 
ascended  the  stairs  in  silence. 

The  landlady  waited  for  Mrs.  Mel  to  retujn,  and  then 
said: 

"Eeally,  Mrs.  Harrington,  you  are  clever.  That  lifting 
that  trunk's  as  good  as  a  lock  and  bolt  on  him.  You've  as 
good  as  made  him  a  Dolphin  —  him  that  was  one  o'  the 
oldest  Green  Dragons  in  Fallifield.  My  thanks  to  you  most 
sincere." 

Mrs.  Mel  sent  out  to  hear  where  Dandy  had  got  to :  after 
which,  she  said :  "  Who  is  the  man  ?  " 

"I  told  you,  Mrs.  Harrington — the  oldest  Green  Dragon. 
His  name,  you  mean  ?  Do  you  know,  if  I  was  to  breathe  it 
out,  I  believe  he'd  jump  out  of  the  window.  He'd  be  off, 
that  you  might  swear  to.  Oh,  such  a  whimsical !  not  ill- 
meaning  —  quite  the  contrary.  Study  his  whims,  and  you'll 
never  want.  There's  Mrs.  Sockley  —  she's  took  ill.  He 
won't  go  there  —  that's  how  I've  caught  him,  my  dear  —  but 
he  pays  her  medicine,  and  she  looks  to  him  the  same.  He 
hate  a  sick  house :  but  he  pity  a  sick  woman.  Now,  if  I  can 
only  please  him,  I  can  always  look  on  him  as  half  a  Dolphin, 
to  say  the  least ;  and  perhaps  to-morrow  I'll  tell  you  who  he 
is,  and  what,  but  not  to-night ;  for  there's  his  supper  to  get 
over,  and  that,  they  say,  can  be  as  bad  as  the  busting  of  one 
of  his  own  vats.     Awful !  " 

"  What  does  he  eat  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Mel. 


270  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"  A  pair  o'  chops.  That  seem  simple,  now,  don't  it  ?  And 
yet  they  chops  make  my  heart  go  pitty-pat." 

"  The  commonest  things  are  the  worst  done,"  said  Mrs.  Mel. 

"  It  ain't  that ;  but  they  must  be  done  his  particular  way, 
do  you  see,  Mrs.  Harrington.  Laid  close  on  the  fire,  he  say, 
so  as  to  keep  in  the  juice.  But  he  ups  and  bounces  in  a 
minute  at  a  speck  o'  black.  So,  one  thing  or  the  other,  there 
you  are :  no  blacks,  no  juices,  I  say." 

"  Toast  the  chops,"  said  Mrs.  Mel. 

The  landlady  of  the  Dolphin  accepted  this  new  idea  with 
much  enlightenment,  but  ruefully  declared  that  she  was 
afraid  to  go  against  his  precise  instructions.  Mrs.  Mel  then 
folded  her  hands,  and  sat  in  quiet  reserve.  She  was  one  of 
those  numerous  women  who  always  know  themselves  to  be 
right.  She  was  also  one  of  those  very  few  whom  Providence 
favours  by  confounding  dissentients.  She  was  positive  the 
chops  would  be  ill-cooked :  but  what  could  she  do  ?  She 
was  not  in  command  here ;  so  she  waited  serenely  for  the  cer- 
tain disasters  to  enthrone  her.  Not  that  the  matter  of  the 
chops  occupied  her  mind  particularly :  nor  could  she  dream 
that  the  pair  in  question  were  destined  to  form  a  part  of  her 
history,  and  divert  the  channel  of  her  fortunes.  Her  thoughts 
were  about  her  own  immediate  work ;  and  when  the  land- 
lady rushed  in  with  the  chops  under  a  cover,  and  said: 
"  Look  at  'em,  dear  Mrs.  Harrington ! "  she  had  forgotten 
that  she  was  again  to  be  proved  right  by  the  turn  of  events. 

"  Oh,  the  chops  ! "  she  responded.  "  Send  them  while 
they  are  hot." 

"  Send  'em !  Why  you  don't  think  I'd  have  risked  their 
cooling  ?  I  have  sent  'em ;  and  what  do  he  do  but  send  'em 
travelling  back,  and  here  they  be ;  and  what  objections  his  is 
I  might  study  till  I  was  blind,  and  I  shouldn't  see  'em." 

"  No ;  I  suppose  not,"  said  Mrs.  Mel.    "  He  won't  eat  'em  ?  " 

"Won't  eat  anything:  but  his  bed-room  candle  immedi- 
ately. And  whether  his  sheets  are  aired.  And  Mary  says  he 
sniffed  at  the  chops ;  and  that  gal  really  did  expect  he'd  fling 
them  at  her.     I  told  you  what  he  was.     Oh,  dear !  " 

The  bell  was  heard  ringing  in  the  midst  of  the  landlady's 
lamentations. 

"Go  to  him  yourself,"  said  Mrs.  Mel.  "No  Christian 
man  should  go  to  sleep  without  his  supper." 


MRS.  MEL  MAKES   A   BED  271 

"Ah!  but  he  ain't  a  common  Christian,"  returned  Mrs. 
Hawkshaw. 

The  old  gentleman  was  in  a  hurry  to  know  when  his  bed- 
room candle  was  coming  up,  or  whether  they  intended  to  give 
him  one  at  all  that  night ;  if  not,  let  them  say  so,  as  he  liked 
plain-speaking.  The  moment  Mrs.  Hawkshaw  touched  upon 
the  chops,  he  stopped  her  mouth. 

"  Go  about  your  business,  ma'am.  You  can't  cook  'em.  I 
never  expected  you  could :  I  was  a  fool  to  try  you.  It  re- 
quires at  least  ten  years'  instruction  before  a  man  can  get  a 
woman  to  cook  his  chop  as  he  likes  it." 

"  But  what  was  your  complaint,  sir  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Hawkshaw, 
imploringly. 

"  That's  right ! "  and  he  rubbed  his  hands,  and  brightened 
his  eyes  savagely.  "  That's  the  way.  Opportunity  for  gos- 
sip! Thing's  well  done  —  down  it  goes:  you  know  that. 
You  can't  have  a  word  over  it  —  eh  ?  Thing's  done  fit  to 
toss  on  a  dungheap,  aha !  Then  there's  a  cackle !  My  be- 
lief is,  you  do  it  on  purpose.  Can't  be  such  rank  idiots. 
You  do  it  on  purpose.     All  done  for  gossip !  " 

"  Oh,  sir,  no ! "     The  landlady  half  curtsied. 

"  Oh,  ma'am,  yes ! "     The  old  gentleman  bobbed  his  head. 

"No,  indeed,  sir ! "     The  landlady  shook  hers. 

"  Damn  it,  ma'am,  I  swear  you  do." 

Symptoms  of  wrath  here  accompanied  the  declaration; 
and,  with  a  sigh  and  a  very  bitter  feeling,  Mrs.  Hawkshaw 
allowed  him  to  have  the  last  word.  Apparently  this  — 
which  I  must  beg  to  call  the  lady's  morsel  —  comforted  his 
irascible  system  somewhat ;  for  he  remained  in  a  state  of 
composure  eight  minutes  by  the  clock.  And  mark  how  little 
things  hang  together.  Another  word  from  the  landlady,  pre- 
cipitating a  retort  from  him,  and  a  gesture  or  muttering  from 
her ;  and  from  him  a  snapping  outburst,  and  from  her  a  sign 
that  she  held  out  still ;  in  fact,  had  she  chosen  to  battle  for 
that  last  word,  as  in  other  cases  she  might  have  done,  then 
would  he  have  exploded,  gone  to  bed  in  the  dark,  and  in- 
sisted upon  sleeping :  the  consequence  of  which  would  have 
been  to  change  this  history.  Now  while  Mrs.  Hawkshaw 
was  up-stairs,  Mrs.  Mel  called  the  servant,  who  took  her  to 
the  kitchen,  where  she  saw  a  prime  loin  of  mutton ;  off  which 
she  cut  two  chops  with  a  cunning  hand :  and  these  she 


272  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

toasted  at  a  gradual  distance,  putting  a  plate  beneath  them, 
and  a  tin  behind,  and  hanging  the  chops  so  that  they  would 
turn  without  having  to  be  pierced.  The  bell  rang  twice  be- 
fore she  could  say  the  chops  were  ready.  The  first  time,  the 
maid  had  to  tell  the  old  gentleman  she  was  taking  up  his 
water.  Her  next  excuse  was,  that  she  had  dropped  her 
candle.     The  chops  ready  —  who  was  to  take  them  ? 

"  Really,  Mrs.  Harrington,  you  are  so  clever,  you  ought,  if 
I  might  be  so  bold  as  say  so ;  you  ought  to  end  it  yourself," 
said  the  landlady.  "  I  can't  ask  him  to  eat  them :  he  was 
all  but  on  the  busting  point  when  I  left  him." 

"  And  that  there  candle  did  for  him  quite,"  said  Mary,  the 
maid. 

"I'm  afraid  it's  chops  cooked  for  nothing,"  added  the 
landlady. 

Mrs.  Mel  saw  them  endangered.  The  maid  held  back: 
the  landlady  feared. 

"  We  can  but  try,"  she  said. 

"  Oh !  I  wish,  mum,  you'd  face  him,  'stead  o'  me,"  said 
Mary ;  "  I  do  dread  that  old  bear's  den." 

"Here,  I  will  go,"  said  Mrs.  Mel.  "Has  he  got  his  ale? 
Better  draw  it  fresh,  if  he  drinks  any," 

And  up-stairs  she  marched,  the  landlady  remaining  below 
to  listen  for  the  commencement  of  the  disturbance.  An 
utterance  of  something  certainly  followed  Mrs.  Mel's  en- 
trance into  the  old  bear's  den.  Then  silence.  Then  what 
might  have  been  question  and  answer.  Then  —  was  Mrs. 
Mel  assaulted  ?  and  which  was  knocked  down  ?  It  really 
was  a  chair  being  moved  to  the  table.     The  door  opened. 

"Yes,  ma'am;  do  what  you  like,"  the  landlady  heard. 
Mrs.  Mel  descended,  saying :  "  Send  him  up  some  fresh  ale." 

"And  you  have  made  him  sit  down  obedient  to  those 
chops  ?  "  cried  the  landlady.  "  Well  might  poor  dear  Mr. 
Harrington  —  pleasant  man  as  he  was  !  —  say,  as  he  used  to 
say,  '  There's  lovely  women  in  the  world,  Mrs.  Hawkshaw,' 
he'd  say,  'and  there's  Duchesses,'  he'd  say,  'and  there's  they 
that  can  sing,  and  can  dance,  and  some,'  he  says,  '  that  can 
cook.'  But  he'd  look  sly  as  he'd  stoop  his  head  and  shake 
it.  'Roll  'em  into  one,'  he  says, '  and  not  any  of  your  grand 
ladies  can  match  my  wife  at  home.'  And,  indeed,  Mrs.  Har- 
rington, he  told  me  he  thought  so  many  a  time  in  the  great 
company  he  frequented." 


MRS.  MEL  MAKES  A  BED  273 

Perfect  peace  reigning  above,  Mrs.  Hawkshaw  and  Mrs. 
Mel  sat  down  to  supper  below ;  and  Mrs.  Hawkshaw  talked 
much  of  the  great  one  gone.  His  relict  did  not  care  to 
converse  about  the  dead,  save  in  their  practical  aspect  as 
ghosts ;  but  she  listened,  and  that  passed  the  time.  By- 
and-by  the  old  gentleman  rang,  and  sent  a  civil  message  to 
know  if  the  landlady  had  ship's  rum  in  the  house. 

"  Dear !  here's  another  trouble,"  cried  the  poor  woman. 
"  No  —  none ! " 

"  Say,  yes,"  said  Mrs.  Mel,  and  called  Dandy,  and  charged 
him  to  run  down  the  street  to  the  square,  and  ask  for  the 
house  of  Mr.  Coxwell,  the  maltster,  and  beg  of  him,  in  her 
name,  a  bottle  of  his  ship's  rum. 

"  And  don't  you  tumble  down  and  break  the  bottle,  Dandy. 
Accidents  with  spirit-bottles  are  not  excused." 

Dandy  went  on  the  errand,  after  an  energetic  grunt. 

In  due  time  he  returned  with  the  bottle,  whole  and  sound, 
and  Mr.  Coxwell's  compliments.  Mrs.  Mel  examined  the 
cork  to  see  that  no  process  of  suction  had  been  attempted, 
and  then  said : 

"  Carry  it  up  to  him,  Dandy.  Let  him  see  there's  a  man 
in  the  house  besides  himself." 

"Why,  my  dear,"  the  landlady  turned  to  her,  "it  seems 
natural  to  you  to  be  mistress  where  you  go.  I  don't  at  all 
mind,  for  ain't  it  my  profit  ?  But  you  do  take  us  off  our 
legs." 

Then  the  landlady,  warmed  by  gratitude,  told  her  that 
the  old  gentleman  was  the  great  London  brewer,  who  brewed 
there  with  his  brother,  and  brewed  for  himself  five  miles 
out  of  Fallowfield,  half  of  which  and  a  good  part  of  the 
neighbourhood  he  owned,  and  his  name  was  Mr.  Tom 
Cogglesby. 

"  Oh !  "  said  Mrs.  Mel.    "  And  his  brother  is  Mr.  Andrew." 

"  That's  it,"  said  the  landlady.  "  And  because  he  took  it 
into  his  head  to  go  and  to  choose  for  himself,  and  be  mar- 
ried, no  getting  his  brother,  Mr.  Tom,  to  speak  to  him. 
Why  not,  indeed  ?  If  there's  to  be  no  marrying,  the  sooner 
we  lay  down  and  give  up,  the  better,  I  think.  But  that's  his 
way.  He  do  hate  us  women,  Mrs.  Harrington.  I  have  heard 
he  was  crossed.  Some  say  it  was  the  lady  of  Beckley  Court, 
who  was  a  Beauty,  when  he  was  only  a  poor  cobbler's  son." 


274  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Mrs.  Mel  breathed  nothing  of  her  relationship  to  Mr.  Tom, 
but  continued  from  time  to  time  to  express  solicitude  about 
Dandy,  They  heard  the  door  open,  and  old  Tom  laughing 
in  a  capital  good  temper,  and  then  Dandy  came  down,  evi- 
dently full  of  ship's  rum. 

"  He's  pumped  me ! "  said  Dandy,  nodding  heavily  at  his 
mistress. 

Mrs.  Mel  took  him  up  to  his  bed-room,  and  locked  the 
door.  On  her  way  back  she  passed  old  Tom's  chamber,  and 
his  chuckles  were  audible  to  her. 

"  They  finished  the  rum,"  said  Mrs.  Hawkshaw. 

"I  shall  rate  him  for  that  to-morrow,"  said  Mrs.  Mel. 
"  Giving  that  poor  beast  liquor !  " 

"Eate  Mr.  Tom!  Oh!  Mrs.  Harrington!  Why,  he'll 
snap  your  head  off  for  a  word." 

Mrs.  Mel  replied  that  her  head  would  require  a  great  deal 
of  snapping  to  come  off. 

During  this  conversation  they  had  both  heard  a  singular 
intermittent  noise  above.  Mrs.  Hawkshaw  was  the  first  to 
ask: 

"  What  can  it  be  ?  More  trouble  with  him  ?  He's  in  his 
bed-room  now." 

"  Mad  with  drink,  like  Dandy,  perhaps,"  said  Mrs.  Mel. 

"  Hark ! "  cried  the  landlady.     "  Oh ! " 

It  seemed  that  Old  Tom  was  bouncing  about  in  an  ex- 
traordinary manner.  Now  came  a  pause,  as  if  he  had  sworn 
to  take  his  rest:  now  the  room  shook  and  the  windows 
rattled. 

"  One  'd  think,  really,  his  bed  was  a  frying-pan,  and  him 
a  live  fish  in  it,"  said  the  landlady.  "Oh  —  there,  again! 
My  goodness !  have  he  got  a  flea  ?  " 

The  thought  was  alarming.     Mrs.  Mel  joined  in: 

"  Or  a " 

"  Don't !  don't,  my  dear ! "  she  was  cut  short.  "  Oh !  one 
o'  them  little  things  'd  be  ruin  to  me.  To  think  o'  that ! 
Hark  at  him !  It  must  be.  And  what's  to  do  ?  I've  sent 
the  maids  to  bed.  We  haven't  a  man.  If  I  was  to  go  and 
knock  at  his  door,  and  ask  ?  " 

"  Better  try  and  get  him  to  be  quiet  somehow." 

"  Ah !  I  dare  say  I  shall  make  him  fire  out  fifty  times 
worse." 


MBS.  MEL  MAKES   A   BED  275 

Mrs.  Hawkshaw  stipulated  that  Mrs.  Mel  should  stand  by 
her,  and  the  two  women  went  up-stairs  and  stood  at  Old 
Tom's  door.  There  they  could  hear  him  fuming  and  mut- 
tering imprecations,  and  anon  there  was  an  interval  of 
silence,  and  then  the  room  was  shaken,  and  the  cursings 
recommenced. 

"  It  must  be  a  fight  he's  having  with  a  flea,"  said  the  land- 
lady. "  Oh  !  pray  heaven,  it  is  a  flea.  For  a  flea,  my  dear 
—  gentlemen  may  bring  that  theirselves ;  but  a  b — ,  that's 
a  stationary,  and  born  of  a  bed.  Don't  you  hear  ?  The 
other  thing  'd  give  him  a  minute's  rest;  but  a  flea's  hop  — 
hop  —  off  and  on.  And  he  sound  like  an  old  gentleman 
worried  by  a  flea.     What  are  you  doing  ?  " 

Mrs.  Mel  had  knocked  at  the  door.  The  landlady  waited 
breathlessly  for  the  result.  It  appeared  to  have  quieted 
Old  Tom. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Mel,  severely. 

The  landlady  implored  her  to  speak  him  fair,  and  reflect 
on  the  desperate  things  he  might  attempt. 

"  What's  the  matter  ?     Can  anything  be  done  for  you  ?  " 

Mr.  Tom  Cogglesby's  reply  comprised  an  insinuation  so 
infamous  regarding  women  when  they  have  a  solitary  man 
in  their  power,  that  it  cannot  be  placed  on  record. 

"  Is  anything  the  matter  with  your  bed  ?  " 

"Anything?  Yes;  anything  is  the  matter,  ma'am.  Hope 
twenty  live  geese  inside  it's  enough  —  eh  ?  bed,  do  you  call 
it  ?     It's  the  rack  !     It's  damnation !     Bed  ?    Ha ! " 

After  delivering  this,  he  was  heard  stamping  up  and  down 
the  room. 

"  My  very  best  bed  ! "  whispered  the  landlady.  "  Would 
it  please  you,  sir,  to  change  —  I  can  give  you  another  ?  " 

"I'm  not  a  man  of  experiments,  ma'am  —  'specially  in 
strange  houses." 

"  So  very,  very  sorry !  " 

"  What  the  deuce ! "  Old  Tom  came  close  to  the  door. 
"  You  whimpering  !  You  put  a  man  in  a  beast  of  a  bed  — 
you  drive  him  half  mad  —  and  then  begin  to  blubber  !  Go 
away." 

"  I  am  so  sorry,  sir  !  " 

"  If  you  don't  go  away,  ma'am,  I  shall  think  your  inten- 
tions are  improper." 


276  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"  Oh,  my  goodness ! "  cried  poor  Mrs.  Hawkshaw.  "  What 
can  one  do  with  him  ?  " 

Mrs.  Mel  put  Mrs.  Hawkshaw  behind  her. 

"  Are  yon  dressed  ?  "  she  called  out. 

In  this  way  Mrs.  Mel  tackled  Old  Tom.  He  was  told  that 
should  he  consent  to  cover  himself  decently,  she  would  come 
into  his  room  and  make  his  bed  comfortable.  And  in  a 
voice  that  dispersed  armies  of  innuendoes,  she  bade  him 
take  his  choice,  either  to  rest  quiet  or  do  her  bidding. 

Had  Old  Tom  found  his  master  at  last,  and  in  one  of  the 
hated  sex  ? 

Breathlessly  Mrs.  Hawkshaw  waited  his  answer,  and  she 
was  an  astonished  woman  when  it  came. 

"  Very  well,  ma'am.  Wait  a  couple  of  minutes.  Do  as 
you  like." 

On  their  admission  to  the  interior  of  the  chamber,  Old 
Tom  was  exhibited  in  his  daily  garb,  sufficiently  subdued 
to  be  civil  and  explain  the  cause  of  his  discomfort.  Lumps 
in  his  bed :  he  was  bruised  by  them.  He  supposed  he 
couldn't  ask  women  to  judge  for  themselves — they'd  be 
shrieking  —  but  he  could  assure  them  he  was  blue  all  down 
his  back. 

Mrs.  Mel  and  Mrs.  Hawkshaw  turned  the  bed  about,  and 
punched  it,  and  rolled  it. 

«  Ha ! "  went  Old  Tom,  "  what's  the  good  of  that  ?  That's 
just  how  I  found  it.  Moment  I  got  into  bed  geese  began  to 
put  up  their  backs." 

Mrs.  Mel  seldom  indulged  in  a  joke,  and  then  only  when 
it  had  a  proverbial  cast.  On  the  present  occasion,  the  truth 
struck  her  forcibly,  and  she  said : 

"  One  fool  makes  many,  and  so,  no  doubt,  does  one  goose." 

Accompanied  by  a  smile  the  words  would  have  seemed 
impudent ;  but  spoken  as  a  plain  fact,  and  with  a  grave  face, 
it  set  Old  Tom  blinking  like  a  small  boy  ten  minutes  after 
the  whip, 

"  Now,"  she  pursued,  speaking  to  him  as  to  an  old  child, 
"  look  here.  This  is  how  you  manage.  Knead  down  in  the 
middle  of  the  bed.  Then  jump  into  the  hollow.  Lie  there, 
and  you  needn't  wake  till  morning." 

Old  Tom  came  to  the  side  of  the  bed.  He  had  prepared 
himself  for  a  wretched  night,  an  uproar,  and  eternal  com- 


MRS.  MEL  MAKES  A   BED  277 

plaints  against  the  house,  its  inhabitants,  and  its  founda- 
tions ;  but  a  woman  stood  there  who  as  much  as  told  him 
that  digging  his  fist  into  the  flock  and  jumping  into  the 
hole  —  into  that  hole  under  his  eyes  —  was  all  that  was 
wanted !  that  he  had  been  making  a  noise  for  nothing,  and 
because  he  had  not  the  wit  to  hit  on  a  simple  contrivance ! 
Then,  too,  his  jest  about  the  geese  —  this  woman  had  put  a 
stop  to  that !  He  inspected  the  hollow  cynically.  A  man 
might  instruct  him  on  a  point  or  two:  Old  Tom  was  not 
going  to  admit  that  a  woman  could. 

"Oh,  very  well;  thank  you,  ma'am;  that's  your  idea. 
I'll  try  it.     Good  night." 

"Good  night,"  returned  Mrs.  Mel.  "Don't  forget  to 
jump  into  the  middle." 

"  Head  foremost,  ma'am  ?  " 

"As  you  weigh,"  said  Mrs.  Mel,  and  Old  Tom  crumped 
his  lips,  silenced  if  not  beaten.  Beaten,  one  might  almost 
say,  for  nothing  more  was  heard  of  him  that  night. 

He  presented  himself  to  Mrs.  Mel  after  breakfast  next 
morning. 

"  Slept  well,  ma'am." 

"  Oh !  then  you  did  as  I  directed  you,"  said  Mrs.  Mel. 

"  Those  chops,  too,  very  good.     I  got  through  'em." 

"Eating,  like  scratching,  only  wants  a  beginning,"  said 
Mrs.  Mel. 

"  Ha !  you've  got  your  word,  then,  as  well  as  everybody 
else.     Where's  your  Dandy  this  morning,  ma'am  ?  " 

"  Locked  up.  You  ought  to  be  ashamed  to  give  that  poor 
beast  liquor.     He  won't  get  fresh  air  to-day." 

"Ha!  May  I  ask  you  where  you're  going  to-day, 
ma'am  ?  " 

"  I  am  going  to  Beckley." 

"  So  am  I,  ma'am.  What  d'ye  say,  if  we  join  company. 
Care  for  insinuations  ?  " 

"  I  want  a  conveyance  of  some  sort,"  returned  Mrs.  Mel. 

"  Object  to  a  donkey,  ma'am  ?  " 

"  Xot  if  he's  strong  and  will  go." 

"  Good,"  said  Old  Tom ;  and  while  he  spoke  a  donkey- 
cart  stopped  in  front  of  the  Dolphin,  and  a  well-dressed 
man  touched  his  hat. 

"  Get  out  of  that  damned  bad  habit,  will  you  ?  "  growled 


278  EVAN   HARKINGTON 

01(1  Tom.  "  What  do  ye  mean  by  wearing  out  the  brim  o' 
your  hat  in  that  way  ?     Help  this  woman  in." 

Mrs.  Mel  helped  herself  to  a  part  of  the  seat. 

"  We  are  too  much  for  the  donkey,"  she  said. 

"Ha,  that's  right.  What  I  have,  ma'am,  is  good.  I 
can't  pretend  to  horses,  but  my  donkey's  the  best.  Are 
you  going  to  cry  about  him  ?  " 

"No.  When  he's  tired  I  shall  either  walk  or  harness 
you,"  said  Mrs.  Mel. 

This  was  spoken  half-way  down  the  High  Street  of  Fal- 
lowfield.     Old  Tom  looked  full  in  her  face,  and  bawled  out : 

"  Deuce  take  it.     Are  you  a  woman  ?  " 

"  I  have  borne  three  girls  and  one  boy,"  said  Mrs.  Mel. 

"  What  sort  of  a  husband  ?  " 

«  He  is  dead." 

"Ha!  that's  an  opening,  but  'tain't  an  answer.  I'm  off 
to  Beckley  on  a  marriage  business.  I'm  the  son  of  a  cob- 
bler, so  I  go  in  a  donkey-cart.  No  damned  pretences  for 
me.  I'm  going  to  marry  off  a  young  tailor  to  a  gal  he's 
been  playing  the  lord  to.  If  she  cares  for  him  she'll  take 
him :  if  not,  they're  all  the  luckier,  both  of  'em." 

"  What's  the  tailor's  name  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Mel. 

"You  are  a  woman,"  returned  Old  Tom.  "Now,  come, 
ma'am,  don't  you  feel  ashamed  of  being  in  a  donkey-cart  ?  " 

"I'm  ashamed  of  men,  sometimes,"  said  Mrs.  Melj 
"  never  of  animals." 

"  'Shamed  o'  me,  perhaps." 

"  I  don't  know  you." 

"  Ha !  well !  I'm  a  man  with  no  pretences.  Do  you  like 
'em  ?  How  have  you  brought  up  your  three  girls  and  one 
boy  ?     No  pretences  —  eh  ?  " 

Mrs.  Mel  did  not  answer,  and  Old  Tom  jogged  the  reins 
and  chuckled,  and  asked  his  donkey  if  he  wanted  to  be  a 
racer. 

"Should  you  take  me  for  a  gentleman,  ma'am  ?" 

"  I  dare  say  you  are,  sir,  at  heart.  Not  from  your  manner 
of  speech." 

"  I  mean  appearances,  ma'am." 

"  I  judge  by  the  disposition," 

"  You  do,  ma'am  ?  Then,  deuce  take  it,  if  you  are  a 
woman,  you're "     Old  Tom  had  no  time  to  conclude. 


rose's  generalship  279 

A  great  noise  of  wheels,  and  a  horn  blown,  caused  them 
both  to  turn  their  heads,  and  they  beheld  a  curricle  descend- 
ing upon  them  vehemently,  and  a  fashionably  attired  young 
gentleman  straining  with  all  his  might  at  the  reins.  The 
next  instant  they  were  rolling  on  the  bank.  About  twenty 
yards  ahead  the  curricle  was  halted  and  turned  about  to  see 
the  extent  of  the  mischief  done. 

"  Pardon,  a  thousand  times,  my  worthy  couple,"  cried  the 
sonorous  Mr.  Raikes.  "  What  we  have  seen  we  swear  not 
to  divulge.     Franko  and  Fred  —  your  pledge ! " 

"  We  swear !  "  exclaimed  this  couple. 

But  suddenly  the  cheeks  of  Mr.  John  Raikes  flushed.  He 
alighted  from  the  box,  and  rushing  up  to  Old  Tom,  was 
shouting,  "  My  bene  —  " 

"  Do  you  want  my  toe  on  your  plate  ?  "  Old  Tom  stopped 
him  with. 

The  mysterious  words  completely  changed  the  aspect  of 
Mr.  John  Raikes.  He  bowed  obsequiously  and  made  his 
friend  Franko  step  down  and  assist  in  the  task  of  re-estab- 
lishing the  donkey,  who  fortunately  had  received  no  damage. 


CHAPTER  XXVII 


EXHIBITS  rose's  GENERALSHIP;  EVAN's  PERFORMANCE  ON 
THE  SECOND  FIDDLE  ;  AND  THE  WRETCHEDNESS  OF  THE 
COUNTESS. 

We  left  Rose  and  Evan  on  their  way  to  Lady  Jocelyn. 
At  the  library-door  Rose  turned  to  him,  and  with  her  chin 
archly  lifted  sideways,  said  : 

"I  know  what  you  feel;  you  feel  foolish." 

Now  the  sense  of  honour,  and  of  the  necessity  of  acting 
the  part  it  imposes  on  him,  may  be  very  strong  in  a  young 
man ;  but  certainly,  as  a  rule,  the  sense  of  ridicule  is  more 
poignant,  and  Evan  was  suffering  horrid  pangs.  We  none 
of  us  like  to  play  second  fiddle.  To  play  second  fiddle  to  a 
young  woman  is  an  abomination  to  us  all.  But  to  have  to 
perform  upon  that  instrument  to  the  darling  of  our  hearts  — 


280  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

would  we  not  rather  die  ?  nay,  almost  rather  end  the  duet 
precipitately  and  with  violence.  Evan,  when  he  passed 
Drummond  into  the  house,  and  quietly  returned  his  gaze, 
endured  the  first  shock  of  this  strange  feeling.  There  could 
be  no  doubt  that  he  was  playing  second  fiddle  to  Rose. 
And  what  was  he  about  to  do  ?  Oh,  horror !  to  stand  like 
a  criminal,  and  say,  or  worse,  have  said  for  him,  things  to 
tip  the  ears  with  fire !  To  tell  the  young  lady's  mother  that 
he  had  won  her  daughter's  love,  and  meant — what  did  he 
mean  ?  He  knew  not.  Alas !  he  was  second  fiddle ;  he 
could  only  mean  what  she  meant.  Evan  loved  Rose  deeply 
and  completely,  but  noble  manhood  was  strong  in  him.  You 
may  sneer  at  us,  if  you  please,  ladies.  We  have  been  edu- 
cated in  a  theory,  that  when  you  lead  off  with  the  bow,  the 
order  of  Nature  is  reversed,  and  it  is  no  wonder  therefore, 
that,  having  stripped  us  of  one  attribute,  our  fine  feathers 
moult,  and  the  majestic  cock-like  march  which  distinguishes 
us  degenerates.  You  unsex  us,  if  I  may  dare  to  say  so. 
Ceasing  to  be  men,  what  are  we  ?  If  we  are  to  please  you 
rightly,  always  allow  us  to  play  First. 

Poor  Evan  did  feel  foolish.  Whether  Rose  saw  it  in  his 
walk,  or  had  a  loving  feminine  intuition  of  it,  and  was 
aware  of  the  golden  rule  I  have  just  laid  down,  we  need  not 
inquire.  She  hit  the  fact,  and  he  could  only  stammer,  and 
bid  her  open  the  door. 

"No,"  she  said,  after  a  slight  hesitation,  "it  will  be 
better  that  I  should  speak  to  Mama  alone,  I  see.  Walk 
out  on  the  lawn,  dear,  and  wait  for  me.  And  if  you  meet 
Drummond,  don't  be  angry  with  him.  Drummond  is  very 
fond  of  me,  and  of  course  I  shall  teach  him  to  be  fond  of 
you.  He  only  thinks  .  .  .  what  is  not  true,  because  he  does 
not  know  you.  I  do  thoroughly,  and  there,  you  see,  I  give 
you  my  hand." 

Evan  drew  the  dear  hand  humbly  to  his  lips.  Rose  then 
nodded  meaningly,  and  let  her  eyes  dwell  on  him,  and  went 
in  to  her  mother  to  open  the  battle. 

Could  it  be  that  a  flame  had  sprung  up  in  those  grey  eyes 
latterly?  Once  they  were  like  morning  before  sunrise.  How 
soft  and  warm  and  tenderly  transparent  they  could  now  be ! 
Assuredly  she  loved  him.  And  he,  beloved  by  the  noblest 
girl  ever  fashioned,  why  should  he  hang  his  head,  and  shrink 


rose's  generalship  281 

at  the  thought  of  human  faces,  like  a  wretch  doomed  to  the 
pillory?  He  visioned  her  last  glance,  and  lightning  emo- 
tions of  pride  and  happiness  flashed  through  his  veins.  The 
generous,  brave  heart!  Yes,  with  her  hand  in  his,  he  could 
stand  at  bay  —  meet  any  fate.  Evan  accepted  Eose  because 
he  believed  in  her  love,  and  judged  it  by  the  strength  of  his 
own;  her  sacrifice  of  her  position  he  accepted,  because  in 
his  soul  he  knew  he  should  have  done  no  less.  He  mounted 
to  the  level  of  her  nobleness,  and  losing  nothing  of  the 
beauty  of  what  she  did,  it  was  not  so  strange  to  him. 

Still  there  was  the  baleful  reflection  that  he  was  second 
fiddle  to  his  beloved.  No  harmony  came  of  it  in  his  mind. 
How  could  he  take  an  initiative?  He  walked  forth  on  the 
lawn,  where  a  group  had  gathered  under  the  shade  of  a 
maple,  consisting  of  Drummond  Forth,  Mrs.  Evremonde, 
Mrs.  Shorne,  Mr,  George  Uploft,  Seymour  Jocelyn,  and 
Ferdinand  Laxley.  A  little  apart  Juliana  Bonner  was 
walking  with  Miss  Carrington.  Juliana,  when  she  saw 
him,  left  her  companion,  and  passing  him  swiftly,  said, 
"Follow  me  presently  into  the  conservatory." 

Evan  strolled  near  the  group,  and  bowed  to  Mrs.  Shorne, 
whom  he  had  not  seen  that  morning. 

The  lady's  acknowledgment  of  his  salute  was  constrained, 
and  but  a  shade  on  the  side  of  recognition.  They  were 
silent  till  he  was  out  of  earshot.  He  noticed  that  his  second 
approach  produced  the  same  effect.  In  the  conservatory 
Juliana  was  awaiting  him. 

"  It  is  not  to  give  you  roses  I  called  you  here,  Mr.  Har- 
rington," she  said. 

"Not  if  I  beg  one?"  he  responded. 

"Ah!  but  you  do  not  want  them  from  ...  It  depends 
on  the  person." 

"Pluck  this,"  said  Evan,  pointing  to  a  white  rose. 

She  put  her  fingers  to  the  stem. 

"What  folly!  "  she  cried,  and  turned  from  it. 

"Are  you  afraid  that  I  shall  compromise  you?"  asked 
Evan, 

"You  care  for  me  too  little  for  that." 

"My  dear  Miss  Bonner!  " 

"  How  long  did  you  know  Rose  before  you  called  her  by 
her  Christian  name?" 


282  EVAN  HAERINGTON 

Evan  really  could  not  remember,  and  was  beginning  to 
wonder  what  he  had  been  called  there  for.  The  little  lady- 
had  feverish  eyes  and  fingers,  and  seemed  to  be  burning  to 
speak,  but  afraid. 

"I  thought  you  had  gone,"  she  dropped  her  voice,  "with- 
out wishing  me  good-bye." 

"I  certainly  should  not  do  that,  Miss  Bonner." 

"  Formal !  "  she  exclaimed,  half  to  herself.  "  Miss  Bonner 
thanks  you.  Do  you  think  I  wish  you  to  stay?  No  friend 
of  yours  would  wish  it.  You  do  not  know  the  selfishness 
—  brutal!  — of  these  people  of  birth,  as  they  call  it." 

"  I  have  met  with  nothing  but  kindness  here, "  said  Evan. 

"Then  go  while  you  can  feel  that,"  she  answered;  "for 
it  cannot  last  another  hour.  Here  is  the  rose."  She  broke 
it  from  the  stem  and  handed  it  to  him.  "  You  may  wear 
that,  and  they  are  not  so  likely  to  call  you  an  adventurer, 
and  names  of  that  sort.  I  am  hardly  considered  a  lady  by 
them." 

An  adventurer !  The  full  meaning  of  the  phrase  struck 
Evan's  senses  when  he  was  alone.  Miss  Bonner  knew 
something  of  his  condition,  evidently.  Perhaps  it  was 
generally  known,  and  perhaps  it  was  thought  that  he  had 
come  to  win  Rose  for  his  worldly  advantage !  The  idea  was 
overwhelmingly  new  to  him.  Up  started  self-love  in  arms. 
He  would  renounce  her. 

It  is  no  insignificant  contest  when  love  has  to  crush  self- 
love  utterly.  At  moments  it  can  be  done.  Love  has  divine 
moments.  There  are  times  also  when  Love  draws  part  of 
his  being  from  self-love,  and  can  find  no  support  with- 
out it. 

But  how  could  he  renounce  her,  when  she  came  forth  to 
him,  smiling,  speaking  freshly  and  lightly,  and  with  the 
colour  on  her  cheeks  which  showed  that  she  had  done  her 
]^art?    How  could  he  retract  a  step? 

"  I  have  told  Mama,  Evan.  That's  over.  She  heard  it 
first  from  me." 

"And  she?" 

"Dear  Evan,  if  you  are  going  to  be  sensitive,  I'll  run 
away.  You  that  fear  no  danger,  and  are  the  bravest  man 
I  ever  knew !  I  think  you  are  really  trembling.  She  will 
speak  to  Papa,  and  then  —  and  then,  I  suppose,  they  will 


rose's  generalship  283 

both  ask  you  whether  you  intend  to  give  me  up,  or  no. 
I'm  afraid  you'll  do  the  former." 

"Your  mother  —  Lady  Jocelyn  listened  to  you,  Eose? 
You  told  her  all?" 

"Every  bit." 

"And  what  does  she  think  of  me?" 

"Thinks  you  very  handsome  and  astonishing,  and  me 
very  idiotic  and  natural,  and  that  there  is  a  great  deal  of 
bother  in  the  world,  and  that  my  noble  relatives  will  lay 
the  blame  of  it  on  her.  No,  dear,  not  all  that;  but  she 
talked  very  sensibly  to  me,  and  kindly.  You  know  she  is 
called  a  philosopher :  nobody  knows  how  deep-hearted  she 
is,  though.  My  mother  is  true  as  steel.  I  can't  separate 
the  kindness  from  the  sense,  or  I  would  tell  you  all  she 
said.  When  I  say  kindness,  I  don't  mean  any  *0h,  my 
child,'  and  tears,  and  kisses,  and  maundering,  you  know. 
You  mustn't  mind  her  thinking  me  a  little  fool.  You  want 
to  know  what  she  thinks  of  you.  She  said  nothing  to  hurt 
you,  Evan,  and  we  have  gained  ground  so  far,  and  now  we'll 
go  and  face  our  enemies.  Uncle  Mel  expects  to  hear  about 
your  appointment,  in  a  day  or  two,  and " 

"Oh,  Rose!  "  Evan  burst  out. 

"What  is  it?" 

"Why  must  I  owe  everything  to  you?" 

"  Why,  dear?  Why,  because,  if  you  do,  it's  very  much 
better  than  your  owing  it  to  anybody  else.     Proud  again?  " 

Not  proud :  only  second  fiddle. 

"  You  know,  dear  Evan,  when  two  people  love,  there  is 
no  such  thing  as  owing  between  them." 

"  Eose,  I  have  been  thinking.  It  is  not  too  late.  I  love 
you,  God  knows  !      I  did  in  Portugal:  I  do  now  —  more 

and  more.     But Oh,  my  bright  angel !  "  he  ended  the 

sentence  in  his  breast. 

"Well?  but  — what?" 

Evan  sounded  down  the  meaning  of  his  "but."  Stripped 
of  the  usual  heroics,  it  was,  "what  will  be  thought  of  me?  " 
not  a  small  matter  to  any  of  us.  He  caught  a  distant 
glimpse  of  the  little  bit  of  bare  selfishness,  and  shrank 
from  it. 

"Too  late,"  cried  Eose.  "The  battle  has  commenced 
now,  and,  Mr.  Harrington,  I  will  lean  on  your  arm,  and  be 


284  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

led  to  my  dear  friends  yonder.  Do  they  think  that  I  am 
going  to  put  on  a  mask  to  please  them?  Not  for  anybody! 
What  they  are  to  know  they  may  as  well  know  at  once." 

She  looked  in  Evan's  face. 

"Do  you  hesitate?" 

He  felt  the  contrast  between  his  own  and  hers ;  between 
the  niggard  spirit  of  the  beggarly  receiver,  and  the  high 
bloom  of  the  exalted  giver.  Nevertheless,  he  loved  her  too 
well  not  to  share  much  of  her  nature,  and  wedding  it  sud- 
denly, he  said: 

"  Rose ;  tell  me,  now.  If  you  were  to  see  the  place  where 
I  was  born,  could  you  love  me  still?  " 

"Yes,  Evan." 

"  If  you  were  to  hear  me  spoken  of  with  contempt " 

"Who  dares?"  cried  Rose.     "Never  to  me!" 

"Contempt  of  what  I  spring  from,  Rose.  Names  used 
.  .  .     Names  are  used  ..." 

"  Tush !  —  names !  "  said  Rose,  reddening.  "  How  cow- 
ardly that  is!  Have  you  finished?  Oh,  faint  heart!  I 
suppose  I'm  not  a  fair  lady,  or  you  wouldn't  have  won  me. 
Now,  come.  Remember,  Evan,  I  conceal  nothing;  and  if 
anything  makes  you  wretched  here,  do  think  how  I  love 
you." 

In  his  own  firm  belief  he  had  said  everything  to  arrest 
her  in  her  course,  and  been  silenced  by  transcendent  logic. 
She  thought  the  same. 

Rose  made  up  to  the  conclave  under  the  maple. 

The  voices  hushed  as  they  approached. 

"Capital  weather,"  said  Rose.  "Does  Harry  come  back 
from  London  to-morrow  —  does  anybody  know?" 

"  Not  aware, "  Laxley  was  heard  to  reply. 

"I  want  to  speak  a  word  to  you,  Rose,"  said  Mrs.  Shorne. 

"  With  the  greatest  pleasure,  my  dear  aunt : "  and  Rose 
walked  after  her. 

"My  dear  Rose,"  Mrs.  Shorne  commenced,  "your  conduct 
requires  that  I  should  really  talk  to  you  most  seriously. 
You  are  probably  not  aware  of  what  you  are  doing.  Nobody 
likes  ease  and  natural  familiarity  more  than  I  do.  I  am 
persuaded  it  is  nothing  but  your  innocence.  You  are  young 
to  the  world's  ways,  and  perhaps  a  little  too  headstrong, 
and  vain." 


rose's  generalship  285 

"Conceited  and  wilful,"  added  Rose. 

"If  you  like  the  words  better.  But  I  must  say  —  I  do 
not  wish  to  trouble  your  father  —  you  know  he  cannot  bear 
worry  —  but  I  must  say,  that  if  you  do  not  listen  to  me,  he 
must  be  spoken  to." 

"  Why  not  Mama?  " 

"I  should  naturally  select  my  brother  first.  No  doubt 
you  understand  me." 

"Any  distant  allusion  to  Mr.  Harrington?" 

"Pertness  will  not  avail  you,  Rose." 

"  So  you  want  me  to  do  secretly  what  I  am  doing  openly?  " 

"  You  must  and  shall  remember  you  are  a  Jocelyn,  Rose." 

"  Only  half,  my  dear  aunt !  " 

"And  by  birth  a  lady,  Rose." 

"And  I  ought  to  look  under  my  eyes,  and  blush,  and 
shrink,  whenever  I  come  near  a  gentleman,  aunt !  " 

"Ah!  my  dear.  No  doubt  you  will  do  what  is  most 
telling.  Since  you  have  spoken  of  this  Mr.  Harrington,  I 
must  inform  you  that  I  have  it  on  certain  authority  from  two 
or  three  sources,  that  he  is  the  son  of  a  small  shopkeeper  at 
Ly  mport. " 

Mrs.  Shorne  watched  the  effect  she  had  produced. 

"Indeed,  aunt?"  cried  Rose.  "And  do  you  know  this 
to  be  true?  " 

"  So  when  you  talk  of  gentlemen.  Rose,  please  be  careful 
whom  you  include." 

"  I  mustn't  include  poor  Mr.  Harrington?  Then  my  grand- 
papa Bonner  is  out  of  the  list,  and  such  numbers  of  good 
worthy  men?" 

Mrs.  Shorne  understood  the  hit  at  the  defunct  manufact- 
urer. She  said:  "You  must  most  distinctly  give  me  your 
promise,  while  this  young  adventurer  remains  here  —  I  think 
it  will  not  be  long  —  not  to  be  compromising  yourself  further, 
as  you  now  do.  Or  —  indeed  I  must  —  I  shall  let  your 
parents  perceive  that  such  conduct  is  ruin  to  a  young  girl 
in  your  position,  and  certainly  you  will  be  sent  to  Elburne 
House  for  the  winter." 

Rose  lifted  her  hands,  crying :  "  Ye  Gods !  —  as  Harry 
says.  But  I'm  very  much  obliged  to  you,  my  dear  aiint. 
Concerning  Mr.  Harrington,  wonderfully  obliged.  Son  of 
a  small !     Is  it  a  t-t-tailor,  aunt  ?  " 


286  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"  It  is  —  I  have  heard." 

"  And  that  is  much  worse.  Cloth  is  viler  than  cotton ! 
And  don't  they  call  these  creatures  sn-snips  ?  Some  word 
of  that  sort  ?  " 

"  It  makes  little  difference  what  they  are  called." 

"Well,  aunt,  I  sincerely  thank  you.  As  this  subject 
seems  to  interest  you,  go  and  see  Mama,  now.  She  can  tell 
you  a  great  deal  more  :  and,  if  you  want  her  authority,  come 
back  to  me." 

Rose  then  left  her  aunt  in  a  state  of  extreme  indignation. 
It  was  a  clever  move  to  send  Mrs.  Shorne  to  Lady  Jocelyn. 
They  were  antagonistic,  and,  rational  as  Lady  Jocelyn  was, 
and  with  her  passions  under  control,  she  was  unlikely  to 
side  with  Mrs.  Shorne. 

Now  Rose  had  fought  against  herself,  and  had,  as  she 
thought,  conquered.  In  Portugal  Evan's  half  insinuations 
had  given  her  small  suspicions,  which  the  scene  on  board 
the  Jocasta  had  half  confirmed :  and  since  she  came  to  com- 
municate with  her  own  mind,  she  bore  the  attack  of  all  that 
rose  against  him,  bit  by  bit.  She  had  not  been  too  blind 
to  see  the  unpleasantness  of  the  fresh  facts  revealed  to  her. 
They  did  not  change  her ;  on  the  contrary,  drew  her  to  him 
faster  —  and  she  thought  she  had  completely  conquered 
whatever  could  rise  against  him.  But  when  Juliana  Bonner 
told  her  that  day  that  Evan  was  not  only  the  son  of  the 
thing,  but  the  thing  himself,  and  that  his  name  could  be 
seen  any  day  in  Lymport,  and  that  he  had  come  from  the 
shop  to  Beckley,  poor  Rosey  had  a  sick  feeling  that  almost 
sank  her.  For  a  moment  she  looked  back  wildly  to  the 
doors  of  retreat.  Her  eyes  had  to  feed  on  Evan,  she  had 
to  taste  some  of  the  luxury  of  love,  before  she  could  gain 
composure,  and  then  her  arrogance  towards  those  she  called 
her  enemies  did  not  quite  return. 

"  In  that  letter  you  told  me  all  —  all  —  all,  Evan  ?  " 

"Yes,  all  —  religiously." 

"  Oh,  why  did  I  miss  it ! " 

"  Would  it  give  you  pleasure  ?  " 

She  feared  to  speak,  being  tender  as  a  mother  to  his  sen- 
sitiveness. The  expressive  action  of  her  eyebrows  sufficed. 
She  could  not  bear  concealment,  or  doubt,  or  a  shadow  of 
dishonesty ;  and  he,  gaining  force  of  soul  to  join  with  hers, 


rose's  gekeralship  287 

took  her  hands  and  related  the  contents  of  the  letter  fully. 
She  was  pale  when  he  had  finished.  It  was  some  time  be- 
fore she  was  able  to  get  free  from  the  trammels  of  prejudice, 
but  when  she  did,  she  did  without  reserve,  saying :  "  Evan, 
there  is  no  man  who  would  have  done  so  much."  These 
little  exaltations  and  generosities  bind  lovers  tightly.  He 
accepted  the  credit  she  gave  him,  and  at  that  we  need  not 
wonder.  It  helped  him  further  to  accept  herself,  otherwise 
could  he  —  his  name  known  to  be  on  a  shop-front  —  have 
aspired  to  her  still  ?  But,  as  an  unexampled  man,  princely 
in  soul,  as  he  felt,  why,  he  might  kneel  to  Rose  Jocelyn. 
So  they  listened  to  one  another,  and  blinded  the  world  by 
putting  bandages  on  their  eyes,  after  the  fashion  of  little 
boys  and  girls. 

Meantime  the  fair  being  who  had  brought  these  two  from 
the  ends  of  the  social  scale  into  this  happy  tangle,  the  benefi- 
cent Countess,  was  wretched.  When  you  are  in  the  enemy's 
country  you  are  dependent  on  the  activity  and  zeal  of  your 
spies  and  scouts,  and  the  best  of  these  —  Polly  Wheedle,  to 
wit  —  had  proved  defective,  recalcitrant  even.  And  because 
a  letter  had  been  lost  in  her  room !  as  the  Countess  ex- 
claimed to  herself,  though  Polly  gave  her  no  reasons.  The 
Countess  had,  therefore,  to  rely  chiefly  upon  personal  obser- 
vation, upon  her  intuitions,  upon  her  sensations  in  the 
proximity  of  the  people  to  whom  she  was  opposed;  and 
from  these  she  gathered  that  she  was,  to  use  the  word  which 
seemed  fitting  to  her,  betrayed.  Still  to  be  sweet,  still  to 
smile  and  to  amuse,  — still  to  give  her  zealous  attention  to 
the  business  of  the  diplomatist's  Election,  still  to  go  through 
her  church-services  devoutly,  required  heroism;  she  was 
equal  to  it,  for  she  had  remarkable  courage ;  but  it  was  hard 
to  feel  no  longer  at  one  with  Providence.  Had  not  Provi- 
dence suggested  Sir  Abraham  to  her  ?  killed  him  off  at  the 
right  moment  in  aid  of  her?  And  now  Providence  had 
turned,  and  the  assistance  she  had  formerly  received  from 
that  Power,  and  given  thanks  for  so  profusely,  was  the  cause 
of  her  terror.  It  was  absolutely  as  if  she  had  been  borrow- 
ing from  a  Jew,  and  were  called  upon  to  pay  fifty-fold 
interest. 

"  Evan ! "  she  writes  in  a  gasp  to  Harriet.  "  We  must 
pack  up  and  depart.     Abandon  everything.     He  has  dis- 


288  EVAN  HAREINGTON 

graced  us  all,  and  ruined  himself.  Impossible  that  we  can 
stay  for  the  pic-nic.  We  are  known,  dear.  Think  of  my 
position  one  day  in  this  house!  Particulars  when  I  em- 
brace you.  I  dare  not  trust  a  letter  here.  If  Evan  had 
confided  in  me !  He  is  impenetrable.  He  will  be  low  all 
his  life,  and  I  refuse  any  more  to  sully  myself  in  attempting 
to  lift  him.  Eor  Silva's  sake  I  must  positively  break  the 
connection.  Heaven  knows  what  I  have  done  for  this  boy, 
and  will  support  me  in  the  feeling  that  I  have  done  enough. 
My  conscience  at  least  is  safe." 

Like  many  illustrious  Generals,  the  Countess  had,  for 
the  hour,  lost  heart.  We  find  her,  however,  the  next  day, 
writing : 

"  Oh !  Harriet !  what  trials  for  sisterly  affection !  Can  I 
possibly  —  weather  the  gale,  as  the  old  L —  sailors  used  to 
say  ?  It  is  dreadful.  I  fear  I  am  by  duty  bound  to  stop 
on.  —  Little  Bonner  thinks  Evan  quite  a  duke's  son,  —  has 
been  speaking  to  her  Grandmama,  and  to-day,  this  morning, 
the  venerable  old  lady  quite  as  much  as  gave  me  to  under- 
stand that  an  union  between  our  brother  and  her  son's  child 
would  sweetly  gratify  her,  and  help  her  to  go  to  her  rest  in 
peace.  Can  I  chase  that  spark  of  comfort  from  one  so  truly 
pious  ?  Dearest  Juliana !  I  have  anticipated  Evan's  feel- 
ing for  her,  and  so  she  thinks  his  conduct  cold.  Indeed, 
I  told  her,  point  blank,  he  loved  her.  That,  you  know,  is 
different  from  saying,  dying  of  love,  which  would  have  been 
an  untruth.  But,  Evan,  of  course !  No  getting  him ! 
Should  Juliana  ever  reproach  me,  I  can  assure  the  child 
that  any  man  is  in  love  with  any  woman  —  which  is  really 
the  case.  It  is,  you  dear  humdrum!  what  the  dictionary 
calls  '  nascent.'  I  never  liked  the  word,  but  it  stands  for 
a  fact." 

The  Countess  here  exhibits  the  weakness  of  a  self-edu- 
cated intelligence.  She  does  not  comprehend  the  joys  of 
scholarship  in  her  employment  of  Latinisms.  It  will  be 
pardoned  to  her  by  those  who  perceive  the  profound  piece 
of  feminine  discernment  which  precedes  it. 

"  I  do  think  I  shall  now  have  courage  to  'stay  out  the  pic- 
nic," she  continues.  "  I  really  do  not  think  all  is  known. 
Very  little  can  be  known,  or  I  am  sure  I  could  not  feel  as  I 
do.     It  would  burn  me  up.     George  Up does  not  dare  j 


rose's  genekalship  289 

and  his  most  beautiful  lady-love  had  far  better  not.  Mr. 
Forth  may  repent  his  whispers.  But,  oh !  what  Evan  may 
do.  Rose  is  almost  detestable.  Manners,  my  dear?  To- 
tally deficient ! 

"An  ally  has  just  come.  Evan's  good  fortune  is  most 
miraculous.  His  low  friend  turns  out  to  be  a  young  Fortu- 
natus ;  very  original,  sparkling,  and  in  my  hands  to  be  made 
much  of.  I  do  think  he  will  —  for  he  is  most  zealous  —  he 
will  counteract  that  hateful  Mr.  Forth,  who  may  soon  have 
work  enough.  Mr.  Eaikes  (Evan's  friend)  met  a  mad  cap- 
tain in  Fallowfield !  Dear  Mr.  Raikes  is  ready  to  say  any- 
thing ;  not  from  love  of  falsehood,  but  because  he  is  ready 
to  think  it.  He  has  confessed  to  me  that  Evan  told  him ! 
Louisa  de  Saldar  has  changed  his  opinion,  and  much  im- 
pressed this  eccentric  young  gentleman.  Do  you  know  any 
young  girl  who  wants  a  fortune,  and  would  be  grateful? 

"  Dearest !  I  have  decided  on  the  pic-nic.  Let  your  con- 
science be  clear,  and  Providence  cannot  be  against  you.  So 
I  feel.  Mr.  Parsley  spoke  very  beautifully  to  that  purpose 
last  Sunday  in  the  morning  service.  A  little  too  much 
through  his  nose,  perhaps ;  but  the  poor  young  man's  nose 
is  a  great  organ,  and  we  will  not  cast  it  in  his  teeth  more 
than  nature  has  done.  I  said  so  to  my  diplomatist,  who 
was  amused.  If  you  are  sparklingly  vulgar  with  the  Eng- 
lish, you  are  aristocratic.  Oh !  what  principle  we  women 
require  in  the  thorny  walk  of  life.  I  can  show  you  a  letter 
when  we  meet  that  will  astonish  humdrum.  Not  so  diplo- 
matic as  the  writer  thought !  Mrs.  Melville  (sweet  woman !) 
must  continue  to  practise  civility;  for  a  woman  who  is  a 
wife,  my  dear,  in  verity,  she  lives  in  a  glass  house,  and 
let  her  fling  no  stones.  *  Let  him  who  is  without  sin.'  How 
beautiful  that  Christian  sentiment !  I  hope  I  shall  be  par- 
doned, but  it  always  seems  to  me  that  what  we  have  to 
endure  is  infinitely  worse  than  any  other  suffering,  for  you 

find  no  comfort  for  the  children  of  T s  in  Scripture,  nor 

any  defence  of  their  dreadful  position.  Robbers,  thieves, 
Magdalens !  but,  no !  the  unfortunate  offspring  of  that  class 
are  not  even  mentioned :  at  least,  in  my  most  diligent 
perusal  of  the  Scriptures,  I  never  lighted  upon  any  remote 
allusion ;  and  we  know  the  Jews  did  wear  clothing.  Out- 
casts, verily !     And  Evan  could  go,  and  write  —  but  I  have 


290  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

no  patience  with  him.     He  is  the  blind  tool  of  his  mother, 
and  anybody's  puppet." 

The  letter  concludes,  with  horrid  emphasis : 
"  The  Madre  in  Beckley  !  Has  sent  for  Evan  from  a  low 
public-house !  I  have  intercepted  the  messenger.  Evan 
closeted  with  Sir  Franks.  Andrew's  horrible  old  brother 
with  Lady  Jocelyn.  The  whole  house,  from  garret  to  kitchen, 
full  of  whispers ! " 
A  prayer  to  Providence  closes  the  communication. 


CHAPTER  XXVIII 

TOM   COGGLESBy's   PROPOSITION 

The  appearance  of  a  curricle  and  a  donkey-cart  within 
the  gates  of  Beckley  Court,  produced  a  sensation  among  the 
men  of  the  lower  halls,  and  a  couple  of  them  rushed  out, 
with  the  left  calf  considerably  in  advance,  to  defend  the 
house  from  violation.  Toward  the  curricle  they  directed 
what  should  have  been  a  bow,  but  was  a  nod.  Their  joint 
attention  was  then  given  to  the  donkey-cart,  in  which  old 
Tom  Cogglesby  sat  alone,  bunchy  in  figure,  bunched  in  face, 
his  shrewd  grey  eyes  twinkling  under  the  bush  of  his  eye- 
brows. 

"  Oy,  sir  —  you !  my  man  ! "  exclaimed  the  tallest  of  the 
pair,  resolutely.  "  This  won't  do.  Don't  you  know  driving 
this  sort  of  conveyance  slap  along  the  gravel  'ere,  up  to  the 
pillars,  's  unparliamentary  ?  Can't  be  allowed.  Now,  right 
about ! " 

This  address,  accompanied  by  a  commanding  elevation  of 
the  dexter  hand,  seemed  to  excite  Mr.  Raikes  far  more  than 
Old  Tom.  He  alighted  from  his  perch  in  haste,  and  was 
running  up  to  the  stalwart  figure,  crying,  "  Fellow ! "  when, 
as  you  tell  a  dog  to  lie  down,  Old  Tom  called  out,  "Be 
quiet,  sir ! "  and  Raikes  halted  with  prompt  military  obedi- 
ence. 

The  sight  of  the  curricle  acting  satellite  to  the  donkey- 
cart  staggered  the  two  footmen. 


TOM   COGGLESBY'S   PROPOSITION  291 

"  Are  you  lords  ?  "  sang  out  Old  Tom. 

A  burst  of  laughter  from  the  friends  of  Mr.  Kaikes,  in 
the  curricle,  helped  to  make  the  powdered  gentlemen  aware 
of  a  sarcasm,  and  one  with  no  little  dignity  replied  that  they 
were  not  lords. 

"  Oh !     Then  come  and  hold  my  donkey." 

Great  irresolution  was  displayed  at  the  injunction,  but 
having  consulted  the  face  of  Mr.  Kaikes,  one  fellow,  evidently 
half  overcome  by  what  was  put  upon  him,  with  the  steps  of 
Adam  into  exile,  descended  to  th£  gravel,  and  laid  his  hand 
on  the  donkey's  head. 

"  Hold  hard ! "  cried  Old  Tom.  "  Whisper  in  his  ear. 
He'll  know  your  language." 

"  May  I  have  the  felicity  of  assisting  you  to  terra  firma  ?  " 
interposed  Mr.  Raikes,  with  the  bow  of  deferential  famil- 
iarity. 

"  Done  that  once  too  often,"  returned  Old  Tom,  jumping 
out.  "  There.  What's  the  fee  ?  There's  a  crown  for  you 
that  ain't  afraid  of  a  live  donkey;  and  there's  a  sixpenny 
bit  for  you  that  are  —  to  keep  up  your  courage  ;  and  when 
he's  dead  you  shall  have  his  skin  —  to  shave  by." 

"  Excellent ! "  shouted  Raikes. 

"  Thomas ! "  he  addressed  a  footman,  "  hand  in  my  card. 
Mr.  John  Feversham  Raikes." 

"And  tell  my  lady,  Tom  Cogglesby's  come,"  added  the 
owner  of  that  name. 

We  will  follow  Tom  Cogglesby,  as  he  chooses  to  be  called. 

Lady  Jocelyn  rose  on  his  entering  the  library,  and  walking 
up  to  him,  encountered  him  with  a  kindly  full  face. 

"  So  I  see  you  at  last,  Tom  ?  "  she  said,  without  releasing 
his  hand;  and  Old  Tom  mounted  patches  of  red  in  his 
wrinkled  cheeks,  and  blinked,  and  betrayed  a  singular  anti- 
quated bashf ulness,  which  ended,  after  a  mumble  of  "  Yes, 
there  he  was,  and  he  hoped  her  ladyship  was  well,"  by  his 
seeking  refuge  in  a  chair,  where  he  sat  hard,  and  fixed  his 
attention  on  the  leg  of  a  table, 

"  Well,  Tom,  do  you  find  much  change  in  me  ? "  she  was 
woman  enough  to  continue. 

He  was  obliged  to  look  up. 

"  Can't  say  I  do,  my  lady." 

"  Don't  you  see  the  grey  hairs,  Tom  ?  " 


292  EVAN  HAREINGTON 

"  Better  than  a  wig,"  rejoined  he. 

Was  it  true  that  her  ladyship  had  behaved  rather  ill  to  Old 
Tom  in  her  youth  ?  Excellent  women  have  been  naughty 
girls,  and  young  Beauties  will  have  their  train.  It  is  also 
very  possible  that  Old  Tom  had  presumed  upon  trifles,  and 
found  it  difficult  to  forgive  her  his  own  folly. 

"  Preferable  to  a  wig  ?  Well,  I  would  rather  see  you 
with  your  natural  thatch.  You're  bent,  too.  You  look  as  if 
you  had  kept  away  from  Beckley  a  little  too  long." 

"  Told  you,  my  lady,  I  should  come  when  your  daughter 
was  marriageable." 

"  Oho !  that's  it  ?    I  thought  it  was  the  Election." 

"Election  be — hem !  — beg  pardon,  my  lady." 

"  Swear,  Tom,  if  it  relieves  you.  I  think  it  bad  to  check 
an  oath  or  a  sneeze." 

"  I'm  come  to  see  you  on  business,  my  lady,  or  I  shouldn't 
have  troubled  you." 

"  Malice  ?  " 

"  You'll  see  I  don't  bear  any,  my  lady." 

*'Ah!  if  you  had  only  sworn  roundly  twenty-five  years 
ago,  what  a  much  younger  man  you  would  have  been !  and 
a  brave  capital  old  friend  whom  I  should  not  have  missed 
all  that  time." 

"  Come ! "  cried  Old  Tom,  varying  his  eyes  rapidly  between 
her  ladyship's  face  and  the  floor,  "  you  acknowledge  I  had 
reason  to." 

"  Mais,  cela  va  sans  dire." 

"  Cobblers'  sons  ain't  scholars,  my  lady." 

"  And  are  not  all  in  the  habit  of  throwing  their  fathers  in 
our  teeth,  I  hope ! " 

Old  Tom  wriggled  in  his  chair.  "Well,  my  lady,  I'm  not 
going  to  make  a  fool  of  myself  at  my  time  o'  life.  Needn't 
be  alarmed  now.  You've  got  the  bell-rope  handy  and  a 
husband  on  the  premises." 

Lady  Jocelyn  smiled,  stood  up,  and  went  to  him.  "I 
like  an  honest  fist,"  she  said,  taking  his.  "  We're  not  going 
to  be  doubtful  friends,  and  we  won't  snap  and  snarl.  That's 
for  people  who're  independent  of  wigs,  Tom.  I  find,  for 
my  part,  that  a  little  grey  on  the  top  of  my  head  cools  the 
temper  amazingly.     I  used  to  be  rather  hot  once." 

"  You  could  be  peppery,  my  lady." 


TOM  cogglesby's  pboposition  293 

"Now  I'm  cool,  Tom,  and  so  must  you  be;  or,  if  you 
fight,  it  must  be  in  my  cause,  as  you  did  when  you  thrashed 
that  saucy  young  carter.     Do  you  remember  ?  " 

"  If  you'll  sit  ye  down,  my  lady,  I'll  just  tell  you  what 
I'm  come  for,"  said  Old  Tom,  who  plainly  showed  that  he 
did  remember,  and  was  alarmingly  softened  by  her  lady- 
ship's retention  of  the  incident. 

Lady  Jocelyn  returned  to  her  place. 

"  You've  got  a  marriageable  daughter,  my  lady  ?  " 

"  I  suppose  we  may  call  her  so,"  said  Lady  Jocelyn,  with 
a  composed  glance  at  the  ceiling. 

"'Gaged  to  be  married  to  any  young  chap ?  " 

"  You  must  put  the  question  to  her,  Tom." 

"Ha!  /don't  want  to  see  her." 

At  this  Lady  Jocelyn  looked  slightly  relieved.  Old  Tom 
continued. 

"Happen  to  have  got  a  little  money  —  not  so  much  as 
many  a  lord's  got,  I  dare  say;  such  as  'tis,  there  'tis.  Young 
fellow  I  know  wants  a  wife,  and  he  shall  have  best  part  of 
it.     Will  that  suit  ye,  my  lady  ?  " 

Lady  Jocelyn  folded  her  hands.  "  Certainly ;  I've  no 
objection.     What  it  has  to  do  with  me  I  can't  perceive." 

"  Ahem !  "  went  Old  Tom.  "  It  won't  hurt  your  daughter 
to  be  married  now,  will  it  ?  " 

"  Oh  !  my  daughter  is  the  destined  bride  of  your  '  young 
fellow,'  "  said  Lady  Jocelyn.     "  Is  that  how  it's  to  be  ?  " 

"  She  "  —  Old  Tom  cleared  his  throat  —  "  she  won't  marry 
a  lord,  my  lady;  but  she  —  'hem — if  she  don't  mind  that 
—  '11  have  a  deuced  sight  more  hard  cash  than  many  lord's 
son  'd  give  her,  and  a  young  fellow  for  a  husband,  sound 
in  wind  and  limb,  good  bone  and  muscle,  speaks  grammar 
and  two  or  three  languages,  and  —  " 

"  Stop ! "  cried  Lady  Jocelyn.  "  I  hope  this  is  not  a  prize 
young  man  ?  If  he  belongs,  at  his  age,  to  the  unco  guid,  I 
refuse  to  take  him  for  a  son-in-law,  and  I  think  Rose  will, 
too." 

Old  Tom  burst  out  vehemently :  "  He's  a  damned  good 
young  fellow,  though  he  isn't  a  lord." 

"  Well,"  said  Lady  Jocelyn,  "  I've  no  doubt  you're  in 
earnest,  Tom.  It's  curious,  for  this  morning  Rose  has  come 
to  me  and  given  me  the  first  chapter  of  a  botheration,  which 


294  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

she  declares  is  to  end  in  the  common  rash  experiment.  What 
is  your  'young  fellow's'  name?  Who  is  he?  What  is 
he?" 

"  Won't  take  my  guarantee,  my  lady  ?  " 

"Rose — if  she  marries  —  must  have  a  name,  you  know?" 

Old  Tom  hit  his  knee.  "  Then  there's  a  pill  for  ye  to 
swallow,  for  he  ain't  the  son  of  a  lord." 

"  That's  swallowed,  Tom.     What  is  he  ?  " 

"He's  the  son  of  a  tradesman,  then,  my  lady."  And  Old 
Tom  watched  her  to  note  the  effect  he  had  produced. 

"  More's  the  pity,"  was  all  she  remarked. 

"And  he'll  have  his  thousand  a  year  to  start  with;  and 
he's  a  tailor,  my  lady." 

Her  ladyship  opened  her  eyes. 

"  Harrington's  his  name,  my  lady.  Don't  know  whether 
you  ever  heard  of  it." 

Lady  Jocelyn  flung  herself  back  in  her  chair.  "The 
queerest  thing  I  ever  met ! "  said  she. 

"  Thousand  a  year  to  start  with,"  Old  Tom  went  on,  "and 
if  she  marries  —  I  mean  if  he  marries  her,  I'll  settle  a  thou- 
sand per  aun.  on  the  first  baby  —  boy  or  gal." 

"  Hum !  Is  this  gross  collusion,  Mr.  Tom  ?  "  Lady  Joce- 
lyn inquired. 

"  What  does  that  mean  ?  " 

"  Have  you  spoken  of  this  before  to  any  one  ?  " 

"  I  haven't,  my  lady.  Decided  on  it  this  morning.  Hem ! 
you  got  a  son,  too.  He's  fond  of  a  young  gal,  or  he  ought 
to  be.     I'll  settle  him  when  I've  settled  the  daughter." 

"  Harry  is  strongly  attached  to  a  dozen,  I  believe,"  said 
his  mother.  "  Well,  Tom,  we'll  think  of  it.  I  may  as  well 
tell  you :  Rose  has  just  been  here  to  inform  me  that  this 
Mr.  Harrington  has  turned  her  head,  and  that  she  has 
given  her  troth,  and  all  that  sort  of  thing.  I  believe  such 
was  not  to  be  laid  to  my  charge  in  my  day." 

"  You  were  open  enough,  my  lady,"  said  Old  Tom.  "  She's 
fond  of  the  young  fellow  ?  She'll  have  a  pill  to  swallow ! 
poor  young  woman !  " 

Old  Tom  visibly  chuckled.  Lady  Jocelyn  had  a  momen- 
tary temptation  to  lead  him  out,  but  she  did  not  like  the 
subject  well  enough  to  play  with  it. 

"  Apparently  Rose  has  swallowed  it,"  she  said. 


TOM   COGGLESBY'S  PROPOSITION  295 

"  Goose,  shears,  cabbage,  and  all ! "  muttered  Old  Tom. 
"  Got  a  stomach !  —  she  knows  he's  a  tailor,  then  ?  The 
young  fellow  told  her  ?  He  hasn't  been  playing  the  lord 
to  her  ?  " 

"  As  far  as  he's  concerned,  I  think  he  has  been  tolerably 
honest,  Tom,  for  a  man  and  a  lover." 

"  And  told  her  he  was  born  and  bound  a  tailor  ?  " 

"  Rose  certainly  heard  it  from  him." 

Slapping  his  knee,  Old  Tom  cried :  "  Bravo ! "  For  though 
one  part  of  his  nature  was  disappointed,  and  the  best  part 
of  his  plot  disarranged,  he  liked  Evan's  proceeding  and  felt 
warm  at  what  seemed  to  him  Rose's  scorn  of  rank. 

"  She  must  be  a  good  gal,  my  lady.  She  couldn't  have 
got  it  from  t'other  side.  Got  it  from  you.  Not  that 
you " 

"No,"  said  Lady  Jocelyn,  apprehending  him.  "I'm 
afraid  I  have  no  Republican  virtues.  I'm  afraid  I  should 
have  rejected  the  pill.  Don't  be  angry  with  me,"  for  Old 
Tom  looked  sour  again;  "I  like  birth  and  position,  and 
worldly  advantages,  and,  notwithstanding  Rose's  pledge  of 
the  insti-ument  she  calls  her  heart,  and  in  spite  of  your  offer, 
I  shall,  I  tell  you  honestly,  counsel  her  to  have  nothing  to 
do  with " 

"Anything  less  than  lords,"  Old  Tom  struck  in.  "Very 
well.     Are  you  going  to  lock  her  up,  my  lady  ?  " 

"No.     Nor  shall  I  whip  her  with  rods." 

"  Leave  her  free  to  her  choice  ?  " 

"  She  will  have  my  advice.  That  I  shall  give  her.  And 
I  shall  take  care  that  before  she  makes  a  step  she  shall  know 
exactly  what  it  leads  to.  Her  father,  of  course,  will  exer- 
cise his  judgement."  (Lady  Jocelyn  said  this  to  uphold  the 
honour  of  Sir  Franks,  knowing  at  the  same  time  perfectly 
well  that  he  would  be  wheedled  by  Rose.)  "I  confess  I 
like  this  Mr.  Harrington.  But  it's  a  great  misfortune  for 
him  to  have  had  a  notorious  father.  A  tailor  should  cer- 
tainly avoid  fame,  and  this  young  man  will  have  to  carry 
his  father  on  his  back.  He'll  never  throw  the  great  Mel 
off." 

Tom  Cogglesby  listened,  and  was  really  astonished  at  her 
ladyship's  calm  reception  of  his  proposal. 

"  Shameful  of  him !  shameful !  "  he  muttered  perversely: 


296  EVAN   HAKRINGTON 

for  it  would  have  made  him  desolate  to  have  had  to  change 
his  opinion  of  her  ladyship  after  cherishing  it,  and  consol- 
ing himself  with  it,  five-and-twenty  years.  Fearing  the 
approach  of  softness,  he  prepared  to  take  his  leave. 

"Now  —  your  servant,  my  lady.  I  stick  to  my  word, 
mind:  and  if  your  people  here  are  willing,  I — I've  got  a 
candidate  up  for  Fall'field  —  I'll  knock  him  down,  and  you 
shall  sneak  in  your  Tory.     Servant,  my  lady." 

Old  Tom  rose  to  go.  Lady  Jocelyn  took  his  hand  cordially, 
though  she  could  not  help  smiling  at  the  humility  of  the  cob- 
bler's son  in  his  manner  of  speaking  of  the  Tory  candidate. 

"  Won't  you  stop  with  us  a  few  days  ?  " 

"  I'd  rather  not,  I  thank  ye." 

"  Won't  you  see  Rose  ?  " 

"  I  won't.     Not  till  she's  married." 

"  Well,  Tom,  we're  friends  now  ?  " 

"  Not  aware  I've  ever  done  you  any  harm,  my  lady." 

"  Look  me  in  the  face." 

The  trial  was  hard  for  him.  Though  she  had  been  five- 
and-twenty  years  a  wife,  she  was  still  very  handsome :  but 
he  was  not  going  to  be  melted,  and  when  the  perverse  old 
fellow  obeyed  her,  it  was  with  an  aspect  of  resolute  disgust 
that  would  have  made  any  other  woman  indignant.  Lady 
Jocelyn  laughed. 

"  "VVhy,  Tom,  your  brother  Andrew's  here,  and  makes  him- 
self comfortable  with  us.  We  rode  by  Brook's  farm  the  other 
day.  Do  you  remember  Copping's  pond — how  we  dragged  it 
that  night  ?     What  days  we  had ! " 

Old  Tom  tugged  once  or  twice  at  his  imprisoned  fist,  while 
these  youthful  frolics  of  his  too  stupid  self  and  the  wild  and 
beautiful  Miss  Bonner  were  being  recalled. 

"  /  remember ! "  he  said  savagely,  and  reaching  the  door 
hurled  out :  "  Aud  I  remember  the  Biill-dogs,  too !  —  servant, 
my  lady."  With  which  he  effected  a  retreat,  to  avoid  a 
ringing  laugh  he  heard  in  his  ears. 

Lady  Jocelyn  had  not  laughed.  She  had  done  no  more 
than  look  and  smile  kindly  on  the  old  boy.  It  was  at  the 
Bull-dogs,  a  fall  of  water  on  the  borders  of  the  park,  that 
Tom  Cogglesby,  then  a  hearty  young  man,  had  been  guilty  of 
his  folly :  had  mistaken  her  frank  friendliness  for  a  return 
of  his  passion,  and  his  stubborn  vanity  still  attributed  her 


PRELUDE  TO  AN  ENGAGEMENT  297 

rejection  of  his  suit  to  the  fact  of  his  descent  from  a  cobbler, 
or,  as  he  put  it,  to  her  infernal  worship  of  rank. 

"  Poor  old  Tom ! "  said  her  ladyship,  when  alone.  "  He's 
rough  at  the  rind,  but  sound  at  the  core."  She  had  no  idea 
of  the  long  revenge  Old  Tom  cherished,  and  had  just  shaped 
into  a  plot  to  be  equal  with  her  for  the  Bull-dogs ! 


CHAPTER  XXIX 

PBELUDE   TO   AN  ENGAGEMENT 

Money  was  a  strong  point  with  the  Elburne  brood.  The 
Jocelyns  very  properly  respected  blood ;  but  being,  as  Harry, 
their  youngest  representative,  termed  them,  poor  as  rats, 
they  were  justified  in  considering  it  a  marketable  stuff;  and 
when  they  married  they  married  for  money.  The  Hon.  Miss 
Jocelyn  had  espoused  a  manufacturer,  who  failed  in  his  con- 
tract, and  deserved  his  death.  The  diplomatist,  Melville,  had 
not  stepped  aside  from  the  family  traditions  in  his  alliance 
with  Miss  Black,  the  daughter  of  a  bold  bankrupt,  educated 
in  afiiuence ;  and  if  he  touched  nothing  but  5000?.  and  some 
very  pretty  ringlets,  that  was  not  his  fault.  Sir  Franks,  too, 
mixed  his  pure  stream  with  gold.  As  yet,  however,  the  gold 
had  done  little  more  than  shine  on  him;  and,  belonging 
to  expectancy,  it  might  be  thought  unsubstantial.  Beckley 
Court  was  in  the  hands  of  Mrs.  Bonner,  who,  with  the  highest 
sense  of  duty  toward  her  only  living  child,  was  the  last  to 
appreciate  Lady  Jocelyn's  entire  absence  of  demonstrative 
affection,  and  severely  reprobated  her  daughter's  philosophic 
handling  of  certain  serious  subjects.  Sir  Franks,  no  doubt, 
came  better  off  than  the  others ;  her  ladyship  brought  him 
twenty  thousand  pounds,  and  Harry  had  ten  in  the  past  tense, 
and  Rose  ten  in  the  future ;  but  living,  as  he  had  done,  a 
score  of  years  anticipating  the  demise  of  an  incurable  invalid, 
he,  though  an  excellent  husband  and  father,  could  scarcely  be 
taught  to  imagine  that  the  Jocelyn  object  of  his  bargain  was 
attained.  He  had  the  semblance  of  wealth,  without  the  per- 
sonal glow  which  absolute  possession  brings.  It  was  his  habit 


298  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

to  call  himself  a  poor  man,  and  it  was  his  dream  that  Rose 
should  marry  a  rich  one.  Harry  was  hopeless.  He  had  been 
his  Grandmother's  pet  up  to  the  years  of  adolescence :  he  was 
getting  too  old  for  any  prospect  of  a  military  career :  he  had 
no  turn  for  diplomacy,  no  taste  for  any  of  the  walks  open  to 
blood  and  birth,  and  was  in  headlong  disgrace  with  the  foun- 
tain of  goodness  at  Beckley  Court,  where  he  was  still  kept  in 
the  tacit  understanding  that,  should  Juliana  inherit  the  place, 
he  must  be  at  hand  to  marry  her  instantly,  after  the  fashion 
of  the  Jocelyns.  They  were  an  injured  family ;  for  what  they 
gave  was  good,  and  the  commercial  world  had  not  behaved 
honourably  to  them. 

Now,  Ferdinand  Laxley  was  just  the  match  for  Rose. 
Born  to  a  title  and  fine  estate,  he  was  evidently  fond  of  her, 
and  there  had  been  a  gentle  hope  in  the  bosom  of  Sir  Franks 
that  the  family  fatality  would  cease,  and  that  Rose  would 
marry  both  money  and  blood. 

From  this  happy  delusion  poor  Sir  Franks  was  awakened 
to  hear  that  his  daughter  had  plighted  herself  to  the  son  of 
a  tradesman :  that,  as  the  climax  to  their  evil  fate,  she  who 
had  some  blood  and  some  money  of  her  own  —  the  only 
Jocelyn  who  had  ever  united  the  two  —  was  desirous  of 
wasting  herself  on  one  who  had  neither.  The  idea  was  so 
utterly  opposed  to  the  principles  Sir  Franks  had  been  trained 
in,  that  his  intellect  could  not  grasp  it.  He  listened  to 
his  sister,  Mrs.  Shorne:  he  listened  to  his  wife;  he  agreed 
with  all  they  said,  though  what  they  said  was  widely  di- 
verse :  he  consented  to  see  and  speak  to  Evan,  and  he  did 
so,  and  was  much  the  most  distressed.  For  Sir  Franks 
liked  many  things  in  life,  and  hated  one  thing  alone — ■ 
which  was  "bother."  A  smooth  world  was  his  delight. 
Rose  knew  this,  and  her  instruction  to  Evan  was:  "You 
cannot  give  me  up  —  you  will  go,  but  you  cannot  give  me 
up  while  I  am  faithful  to  you:  tell  him  that."  She  knew 
that  to  impress  this  fact  at  once  on  the  mind  of  Sir  Franks 
would  be  a  great  gain;  for  in  his  detestation  of  bother  he 
would  soon  grow  reconciled  to  things  monstrous :  and  hear- 
ing the  same  on  both  sides,  the  matter  would  assume  an 
inevitable  shape  to  him.  Mr.  Second  Fiddle  had  no  diffi- 
culty in  declaring  the  eternity  of  his  sentiments;  but  he 
toned  them  with  a  despair  Rose  did  not  contemplate,  and 


PRELUDE   TO   AN   ENGAGEMENT  299 

added  also  his  readiness  to  repair,  in  any  way  possible,  the 
evil  done.  He  spoke  of  his  birth  and  position.  Sir  Franks, 
with  a  gentlemanly  delicacy  natural  to  all  lovers  of  a  smooth 
world,  begged  him  to  see  the  main  and  the  insurmountable 
objection.  Birth  was  to  be  desired,  of  course,  and  position, 
and  so  forth :  but  without  money  how  can  two  young  people 
marry?  Evan's  heart  melted  at  this  generous  way  of  put- 
ting it.  He  said  he  saw  it,  he  had  no  hope :  he  would  go 
and  be  forgotten :  and  begged  that  for  any  annoyance  his 
visit  might  have  caused  Sir  Franks  and  Lady  Jocelyn,  they 
would  pardon  him.  Sir  Franks  shook  him  by  the  hand,  and 
the  interview  ended  in  a  dialogue  on  the  condition  of  the 
knees  of  Black  Lymport,  and  on  horseflesh  in  Portugal  and 
Spain. 

Following  Evan,  Rose  went  to  her  father  and  gave  him  a 
good  hour's  excitement,  after  which  the  worthy  gentleman 
hurried  for  consolation  to  Lady  Jocelyn,  whom  he  found 
reading  a  book  of  French  memoirs,  in  her  usual  attitude, 
with  her  feet  stretched  out  and  her  head  thrown  back,  as  in 
a  distant  survey  of  the  lively  people  screening  her  from  a 
troubled  world.  Her  ladyship  read  him  a  piquant  story, 
and  Sir  Franks  capped  it  with  another  from  memory; 
whereupon  her  ladyship  held  him  wrong  in  one  turn  of 
the  story,  and  Sir  Franks  rose  to  get  the  volume  to  verify, 
and  while  he  was  turning  over  the  leaves,  Lady  Jocelyn 
told  him  incidentally  of  old  Tom  Cogglesby's  visit  and  pro- 
posal. Sir  Franks  found  the  passage,  and  that  her  ladyship 
was  right,  which  it  did  not  move  her  countenance  to  hear. 

"  Ah!  "  said  he,  finding  it  no  use  to  pretend  there  was  no 
bother  in  the  world,  "here's  a  pretty  pickle!  Eose  says 
she  will  have  that  fellow." 

"  Hum !  "  replied  her  ladyship.  "  And  if  she  keeps  her 
mind  a  couple  of  years,  it  will  be  a  wonder." 

"Very  bad  for  her  this  sort  of  thing  —  talked  about," 
muttered  Sir  Franks.     "Ferdinand  was  just  the  man." 

"Well,  yes;  I  suppose  it's  her  mistake  to  think  brains 
an  absolute  requisite,"  said  Lady  Jocelyn,  opening  her 
book  again,  and  scanning  down  a  column. 

Sir  Franks,  being  imitative,  adopted  a  similar  refuge, 
and  the  talk  between  them  was  varied  by  quotations  and 
choice  bits  from  the  authors  they  had  recourse  to.     Both 


300  EVAN  nARRINGTON 

leaned  back  in  their  chairs,  and  spoke  with  their  eyes  on 
their  books. 

"Julia's  going  to  write  to  her  mother,"  said  he. 

"Very  filial  and  proper,"  said  she. 

"There'll  be  a  horrible  hubbub,  you  know,  Emily." 

"  Most  probably.     I  shall  get  the  blame;  cela  se  conqoit." 

"Young  Harrington  goes  the  day  after  to-morrow. 
Thought  it  better  not  to  pack  him  off  in  a  hurry." 

"  And  just  before  the  pic-nic ;  no,  certainly.  I  suppose 
it  would  look  odd." 

"How  are  we  to  get  rid  of  the  Countess?" 

"  Eh?  This  Bautru  is  amusing,  Franks ;  but  he's  nothing 
to  Vandy.  Homme  incomparable!  On  the  whole  I  find 
Menage  rather  dull.  The  Countess?  what  an  accomplished 
liar  that  woman  is!  She  seems  to  have  stepped  out  of 
Tallemant's  Gallery.  Concerning  the  Countess,  I  suppose 
you  had  better  apply  to  Melville." 

"Where  the  deuce  did  this  young  Harrington  get  his 
breeding  from?" 

"He  comes  of  a  notable  sire." 

"Yes,  but  there's  no  sign  of  the  snob  in  him." 

"And  I  exonerate  him  from  the  charge  of  '  adventuring ' 
after  Rose.  George  Uplof b  tells  me  —  I  had  him  in  just 
now  —  that  the  mother  is  a  woman  of  mark  and  strong 
principle.  She  has  probably  corrected  the  too  luxuriant 
nature  of  Mel  in  her  offspring.  That  is  to  say  in  this  one. 
Pour  les  autres,  je  ne  dis  pas.  Well,  the  young  man  will 
go;  and  if  Rose  chooses  to  become  a  monument  of  con- 
stancy, we  can  do  nothing.  I  shall  give  my  advice;  but  as 
she  has  not  deceived  me,  and  she  is  a  reasonable  being,  I 
shan't  interfere.  Putting  the  case  at  the  worst,  they  will 
not  want  money.  I  have  no  doubt  Tom  Cogglesby  means 
what  he  says,  and  will  do  it.  So  there  we  will  leave  the 
matter  till  we  hear  from  Elburne  House." 

Sir  Franks  groaned  at  the  thought. 

"How  much  does  he  offer  to  settle  on  them?"  he  asked. 

"A  thousand  a  year  on  the  marriage,  and  the  same 
amount  to  the  first  child.  I  dare  say  the  end  would  be 
that  they  would  get  all." 

Sir  Franks  nodded,  and  remained  with  one  eye-brow  piti- 
ably elevated  above  the  level  of  the  other. 


PRELUDE  TO  AN  ENGAGEMENT        301 

"  Anything  but  a  tailor ! "  he  exclaimed  presently,  half 
to  himself. 

"There  is  a  prejudice  against  that  craft,"  her  ladyship 
acquiesced.  "  Beranger  —  let  me  see  —  your  favourite 
Frenchman,  Franks,  wasn't  it  his  father?  —  no,  his  grand- 
father. 'Mon  pauvre  et  humble  grandpere,'  I  think,  was 
a  tailor.  Hum!  the  degrees  of  the  thing,  I  confess,  don't 
affect  me.  One  trade  I  imagine  to  be  no  worse  than 
another." 

"Ferdinand's  allowance  is  about  a  thousand,"  said  Sir 
Franks,  meditatively. 

"  And  won't  be  a  farthing  more  till  he  comes  to  the  title," 
added  her  ladyship. 

"  Well,"  resumed  Sir  Franks,  "it's  a  horrible  bother!  " 

His  wife  philosophically  agreed  with  him,  and  the  sub- 
ject was  dropped. 

Lady  Jocelyn  felt  with  her  husband,  more  than  she  chose 
to  let  him  know,  and  Sir  Franks  could  have  burst  into 
anathemas  against  fate  and  circumstances,  more  than  his 
love  of  a  smooth  world  permitted.  He,  however,  was  sub- 
dued by  her  calmness ;  and  she,  with  ten  times  the  weight 
of  brain,  was  manceuvred  by  the  wonderful  dash  of  General 
Rose  Jocelyn.  For  her  ladyship,  thinking,  "I  shall  get 
the  blame  of  all  this,"  rather  sided  insensibly  with  the 
offenders  against  those  who  condemned  them  jointly;  and 
seeing  that  Rose  had  been  scrupulously  honest  and  straight- 
forward in  a  very  delicate  matter,  this  lady  was  so  consti- 
tuted that  she  could  not  but  applaud  her  daughter  in  her 
heart.  A  worldly  woman  would  have  acted,  if  she  had  not 
thought,  differently;  but  her  ladyship  was  not  a  worldly 
woman,  Evan's  bearing  and  character  had,  during  his 
residence  at  Beckley  Court,  become  so  thoroughly  accepted 
as  those  of  a  gentleman,  and  one  of  their  own  rank,  that, 
after  an  allusion  to  the  origin  of  his  breeding,  not  a  word 
more  was  said  by  either  of  them  on  that  topic.  Besides, 
Rose  had  dignified  him  by  her  decided  conduct. 

By  the  time  poor  Sir  Franks  had  read  himself  into  tran- 
quillity, Mrs.  Shorne,  who  knew  him  well,  and  was  deter- 
mined that  he  should  not  enter  upon  his  usual  negociations 
with  an  unpleasantness:  that  is  to  say,  to  forget  it,  joined 
them  in  the  library,  bringing  with  her  Sir  John  Loring 


302  EVAN   HAKRINGTON 

and  Hamilton  Jocelyn.  Her  first  measure  was  to  compel 
Sir  Franks  to  put  down  his  book.  Lady  Jocelyn  subse- 
quently had  to  do  the  same. 

"Well,  what  have  you  done,  Franks?"  said  Mrs. 
Shorne. 

"  Done  ?  "  answered  the  poor  gentleman.  "  What  is  there 
to  be  done  ?    I've  spoken  to  young  Harrington." 

"  Spoken  to  him  !  He  deserves  horsewhipping !  Have 
you  not  told  him  to  quit  the  house  instantly  ?  " 

Lady  Jocelyn  came  to  her  husband's  aid :  "  It  wouldn't 
do,  I  think,  to  kick  him  out.  In  the  first  place,  he  hasn't 
deserved  it." 

"  Not  deserved  it,  Emily !  —  the  commonest,  low,  vile, 
adventuring  tradesman ! " 

"In  the  second  place,"  pursued  her  ladyship,  "it's  not 
advisable  to  do  anything  that  will  make  Rose  enter  into  the 
young  woman's  sublimities.  It's  better  not  to  let  a  lunatic 
see  that  you  think  him  stark  mad,  and  the  same  holds  with 
young  women  afflicted  with  the  love-mania.  The  sound  of 
sense,  even  if  they  can't  understand  it,  flatters  them  so  as  to 
keep  them  within  bounds.  Otherwise  you  drive  them  into 
excesses  best  avoided." 

"Really,  Emily,"  said  Mrs.  Shorne,  "you  speak  almost, 
one  would  say,  as  an  advocate  of  such  unions." 

"  You  must  know  perfectly  well  that  I  entirely  condemn 
them,"  replied  her  ladyship,  who  had  once,  and  once  only, 
delivered  her  opinion  of  the  nuptials  of  Mr.  and  Mrs. 
Shorne. 

In  self-defence,  and  to  show  the  total  difference  between 
the  cases,  Mrs.  Shorne  interjected:  "An  utterly  penniless 
young  adventurer ! " 

"  Oh,  no ;  there's  money,"  remarked  Sir  Franks. 

"  Money  is  there  ?  "  quoth  Hamilton,  respectfully. 

"  And  there's  wit,"  added  Sir  John,  "  if  he  has  half  Ms 
sister's  talent." 

"  Astonishing  woman  ! "  Hamilton  chimed  in ;  adding, 
with  a  shrug,  "  But,  egad ! " 

"  Well,  we  don't  want  him  to  resemble  his  sister,"  said 
Lady  Jocelyn.     "  I  acknowledge  she's  amusing." 

"  Amusing,  Emily  !  "  Mrs.  Shorne  never  encoimtered  her 
sister-in-law's  calmness  without  indignation.     "I  could  not 


PRELUDE  TO   AN   ENGAGEMENT  303 

rest  in  the  house  with  such  a  person,  knowing  her  what  she 
is.  A  vile  adventuress,  as  I  firmly  believe.  What  does  she 
do  all  day  with  your  mother  ?  Depend  upon  it,  you  will 
repent  her  visit  in  more  ways  than  one." 

"  A  prophecy  ?  "  asked  Lady  Jocelyn,  smiling. 

On  the  grounds  of  common-sense,  on  the  grounds  of  pro- 
priety, and  consideration  of  what  was  due  to  themselves,  all 
agreed  to  condemn  the  notion  of  Eose  casting  herself  away 
on  Evan.  Lady  Jocelyn  agreed  with  Mrs.  Shorne;  Sir 
Franks  with  his  brother,  and  Sir  John.  But  as  to  what 
they  were  to  do,  they  were  divided.  Lady  Jocelyn  said  she 
shovdd  not  prevent  Rose  from  writing  to  Evan,  if  she  had 
the  wish  to  do  so. 

"  Folly  must  come  out,"  said  her  ladyship.  "  It's  a  com- 
bustible material.  I  won't  have  her  health  injured.  She 
shall  go  into  the  world  more.  She  will  be  presented  at 
Court,  and  if  it's  necessary  to  give  her  a  dose  or  two  to 
counteract  her  vanity,  I  don't  object.  This  will  wear  off, 
or,  si  c'est  veritablement  une  grande  passion,  eh  bien !  we 
must  take  what  Providence  sends  us." 

"And  which  we  might  have  prevented  if  we  had  con- 
descended to  listen  to  the  plainest  worldly  wisdom,"  added 
Mrs.  Shorne. 

"  Yes,"  said  Lady  Jocelyn,  equably,  "  you  know,  you  and 
I,  Julia,  argue  from  two  distinct  points.  Girls  may  be  shut 
up,  as  you  propose.  I  don't  think  nature  intended  to  have 
them  the  obverse  of  men.  I'm  sure  their  mothers  never 
designed  that  they  should  run  away  with  footmen,  riding- 
masters,  chance  curates,  as  they  occasionally  do,  and  wouldn't 
if  they  had  points  of  comparison.  My  opinion  is  that  Pros- 
pero  was  just  saved  by  the  Prince  of  Naples  being  wrecked  on 
his  island,  from  a  shocking  mis-alliance  between  his  daughter 
and  the  son  of  Sycorax.  I  see  it  clearly.  Poetry  conceals 
the  extreme  probability,  but  from  what  I  know  of  my  sex,  I 
should  have  no  hesitation  in  turning  prophet  also,  as  to  that." 

What  could  Mrs.  Shorne  do  with  a  mother  who  talked  in 
this  manner  ?  Mrs.  Melville,  when  she  arrived  to  take  part 
in  the  conference,  which  gradually  swelled  to  a  family  one, 
was  equally  unable  to  make  Lady  Jocelyn  perceive  that  her 
plan  of  bringing  up  Rose  was,  in  the  present  result  of  it, 
other  than  unlucky. 


304  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Now  tlie  two  Generals  —  Rose  Jocelyn  and  the  Countess  de 
Saldar  —  had  brought  matters  to  this  pass ;  and  from  the  two 
tactical  extremes:  the  former  by  openness  and  dash;  the 
latter  by  subtlety,  and  her  own  interpretations  of  the  means 
extended  to  her  by  Providence.  I  will  not  be  so  bold  as  to 
state  which  of  the  two  I  think  right.  Good  and  evil  work 
together  in  this  world.  If  the  Countess  had  not  woven  the 
tangle,  and  gained  Evan  time,  Rose  would  never  have  seen  his 
blood,  —  never  have  had  her  spirit  hurried  out  of  all  shows 
and  forms  and  habits  of  thought,  up  to  the  gates  of  existence, 
as  it  were,  where  she  took  him  simply  as  God  created  him  and 
her,  and  clave  to  him.  Again,  had  Rose  been  secret,  when 
this  turn  in  her  nature  came,  she  would  have  forfeited  the 
strange  power  she  received  from  it,  and  which  endowed  her 
with  decision  to  say  what  was  in  her  heart,  and  stamp  it 
lastingly  there.  The  two  Generals  were  quite  antagonistic, 
but  no  two,  in  perfect  ignorance  of  one  another's  proceedings, 
ever  worked  so  harmoniously  toward  the  main  result.  The 
Countess  was  the  skilful  engineer:  Rose  the  General  of 
cavalry.  And  it  did  really  seem  that,  with  Tom  Cogglesby 
and  his  thousands  in  reserve,  the  victory  was  about  to  be 
gained.  The  male  Jocelyns,  an  easy  race,  decided  that,  if 
the  worst  came  to  the  worst,  and  Rose  proved  a  wonder, 
there  was  money,  which  was  something. 

But  social  prejudice  was  about  to  claim  its  champion. 
Hitherto  there  had  been  no  General  on  the  opposite  side. 
Love,  aided  by  the  Countess,  had  engaged  an  inert  mass.  The 
champion  was  discovered  in  the  person  of  the  provincial  Don 
Juan,  Mr.  Harry  Jocelyn.  Harry  had  gone  on  a  mysterious 
business  of  his  own  to  London.  He  returned  with  a  green 
box  under  his  arm,  which,  five  minutes  after  his  arrival,  was 
entrusted  to  Conning,  in  company  with  a  genial  present  for 
herself,  of  a  kind  not  perhaps  so  fit  for  exhibition ;  at  least 
they  both  thought  so,  for  it  was  given  in  the  shades.  Harry 
then  went  to  pay  his  respects  to  his  mother,  who  received  him 
with  her  customary  ironical  tolerance.  His  father,  to  whom 
he  was  an  incarnation  of  bother,  likewise  nodded  to  him  and 
gave  him  a  finger.  Duty  done,  Harry  looked  round  him  for 
pleasure,  and  observed  nothing  but  glum  faces.  Even  the 
face  of  John  Raikes  was  heavy.  He  had  been  hovering 
about  the  Duke  and  Miss  Current  for  an  hour,  hoping  the 


PRELUDE  TO  AN  ENGAGEMENT  305 

Countess  would  come  and  give  him  a  promised  introduction. 
The  Countess  stirred  not  from  above,  and  Jack  drifted  from 
group  to  group  on  the  lawn,  and  grew  conscious  that  wher- 
ever he  went  he  brought  silence  with  him.  His  isolation 
made  him  humble,  and  when  Harry  shook  his  hand,  and 
said  he  remembered  Fallowfield  and  the  fun  there,  Mr. 
Raikes  thanked  him. 

Harry  made  his  way  to  join  his  friend  Ferdinand,  and 
furnished  him  with  the  latest  London  news  not  likely  to 
appear  in  the  papers.  Laxley  was  distant  and  unamused. 
From  the  fact,  too,  that  Harry  was  known  to  be  the  Countess's 
slave,  his  presence  produced  the  same  effect  in  the  different 
circles  about  the  grounds,  as  did  that  of  John  Raikes. 
Harry  began  to  yawn  and  wish  very  ardently  for  his  sweet 
lady.     She,  however,  had  too  fine  an  instinct  to  descend. 

An  hour  before  dinner,  Juliana  sent  him  a  message  that 
she  desired  to  see  him. 

"  Jove !  I  hope  that  girl's  not  going  to  be  blowing  hot 
again,"  sighed  the  conqueror. 

He  had  nothing  to  fear  from  Juliana.  The  moment  they 
were  alone  she  asked  him,  "  Have  you  heard  of  it  ?  " 

Harry  shook  his  head  and  shrugged. 

"They  haven't  told  you?  Rose  has  engaged  herself  to 
Mr.  Harrington,  a  tradesman,  a  tailor ! " 

"  Pooh !  have  you  got  hold  of  that  story  ?  "  said  Harry. 
"But  I'm  sorry  for  old  Ferdy.  He  was  fond  of  Rosey. 
Here's  another  bother ! " 

"  You  don't  believe  me,  Harry  ?  " 

Harry  was  mentally  debating  whether,  in  this  new  posture 
of  affairs,  his  friend  Ferdinand  would  press  his  claim  for 
certain  moneys  lent. 

"  Oh,  I  believe  you,"  he  said.  "Harrington  has  the  knack 
with  you  women.  Why,  you  made  eyes  at  him.  It  was  a 
toss-up  between  you  and  Rosey  once." 

Juliana  let  this  accusation  pass. 

"  He  is  a  tradesman.  He  has  a  shop  in  Lymport,  I  tell 
you,  Harry,  and  his  name  on  it.  And  he  came  here  on  pur- 
pose to  catch  Rose.  And  now  he  has  caught  her,  he  tells 
her.  And  his  mother  is  now  at  one  of  the  village  inns, 
waiting  to  see  him.  Go  to  Mr.  George  Uploft;  he  knows 
the  family.      Yes,  the  Countess  has  turned  your  head,  of 


306  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

course;  but  she  has  schemed  and  schemed,  and  told  such 
stories  —  God  forgive  her ! "  — 

The  girl  had  to  veil  her  eyes  in  a  spasm  of  angry  weeping. 

"  Oh,  come !  Juley ! "  murmured  her  killing  cousin.  Harry 
boasted  an  extraordinary  weakness  at  the  sight  of  feminine 
tears.  "  I  say !  Juley  !  you  know  if  you  begin  crying  I'm 
done  for,  and  it  isn't  fair." 

He  dropped  his  arm  on  her  waist  to  console  her,  and  gen- 
erously declared  to  her  that  he  always  had  been  very  fond 
of  her.  These  scenes  were  not  foreign  to  the  youth.  Her 
fits  of  crying,  from  which  she  would  burst  in  a  frenzy  of 
contempt  at  him,  had  made  Harry  say  stronger  things ;  and 
the  assurances  of  profound  affection  uttered  in  a  most  lan- 
guid voice  will  sting  the  hearts  of  women. 

Harry  still  went  on  with  his  declarations,  heating  them 
rapidly,  so  as  to  bring  on  himself  the  usual  outburst  and 
check.  She  was  longer  in  coming  to  it  this  time,  and  he 
had  a  horrid  fear,  that  instead  of  dismissing  him  fiercely, 
and  so  annulling  his  words,  the  strange  little  person  was 
going  to  be  soft  and  hold  him  to  them.  There  were  her  tears, 
however,  which  she  could  not  stop. 

"  Well,  then,  Juley,  look.  I  do,  upon  my  honour,  yes  — 
there,  don't  cry  any  more  —  I  do  love  you." 

Harry  held  his  breath  in  awful  suspense.  Juliana  quietly 
disengaged  her  waist,  and  looking  at  him,  said,  "Poor 
Harry !     You  need  not  lie  any  more  to  please  me." 

Such  was  Harry's  astonishment,  that  he  exclaimed,  "It 
isn't  a  lie !  I  say,  I  do  love  you."  And  for  an  instant  he 
thought  and  hoped  that  he  did  love  her. 

"Well,  then,  Harry,  I  don't  love  you,"  said  Juliana; 
which  revealed  to  our  friend  that  he  had  been  mistaken  in 
his  own  emotions.  Nevertheless,  his  vanity  was  hurt  when 
he  saw  she  was  sincere,  and  he  listened  to  her,  a  moody 
being.  This  may  account  for  his  excessive  wrath  at  Evan 
Harrington  after  Juliana  had  given  him  proofs  of  the  truth 
of  what  she  said. 

But  the  Countess  was  Harrington's  sister !  The  image  of 
the  Countess  swam  before  him.  Was  it  possible?  Harry 
went  about  asking  everybody  he  met.  The  initiated  were 
discreet;  those  who  had  the  whispers  were  open.  A  bare 
truth  is  not  so  convincing  as  one  that  discretion  confirms. 
Harry  found  the  detestable  news  perfectly  true. 


PRELUDE   TO   AN   ENGAGEMENT  307 

"  Stop  it  by  all  means  if  you  can,"  said  his  father. 

"  Yes,  try  a  fall  with  Eose,"  said  his  mother. 

"  And  I  must  sit  down  to  dinner  to-day  with  a  confounded 

fellow,  the  son  of  a  tailor,  who'a  had  the impudence  to 

make  love  to  my  sister!"  cried  Harry.  "I'm  determined 
to  kick  him  out  of  the  house !  —  half." 

"  To  what  is  the  modification  of  your  determination  due  ?  " 
Lady  Jocelyn  inquired,  probably  suspecting  the  sweet  and 
gracious  person  who  divided  Harry's  mind. 

Her  ladyship  treated  her  children  as  she  did  mankind 
generally,  from  her  intellectual  eminence.  Harry  was  com- 
pelled to  fly  from  her  cruel  shafts.  He  found  comfort  with 
his  Aunt  Shorne,  and  she  as  much  as  told  Harry  that  he 
was  the  head  of  the  house,  and  must  take  up  the  matter 
summarily.  It  was  expected  of  him.  Now  was  the  time 
for  him  to  show  his  manhood. 

Harry  could  think  of  but  one  way  to  do  that. 

"  Yes,  and  if  I  do  —  all  up  with  the  old  lady,"  he  said, 
and  had  to  explain  that  his  Grandmama  Bonner  would  never 
leave  a  penny  to  a  fellow  who  had  fought  a  duel. 

"A  duel!"  said  Mrs.  Shorne.  "No,  there  are  other  ways. 
Insist  upon  his  renouncing  her.  And  Rose  —  treat  her  with 
a  high  hand,  as  becomes  you.  Your  mother  is  incorrigible, 
and  as  for  your  father,  one  knows  him  of  old.  This  devolves 
upon  you.     Our  family  honour  is  in  your  hands,  Harry." 

Considering  Harry's  reputation,  the  family  honour  must 
have  got  low.  Harry,  of  course,  was  not  disposed  to  think 
so.  He  discovered  a  great  deal  of  unused  pride  within  him, 
for  which  he  had  hitherto  not  found  an  agreeable  vent.  He 
vowed  to  his  aunt  that  he  would  not  suffer  the  disgrace,  and 
while  still  that  blandishing  olive-hued  visage  swam  before 
his  eyes,  he  pledged  his  word  to  Mrs.  Shorne  that  he  would 
come  to  an  understanding  with  Harrington  that  night. 

"  Quietly,"  said  she.     "  No  scandal,  pray." 

"  Oh,  never  mind  how  I  do  it,"  returned  Harry,  manfully. 
"  How  am  I  to  do  it,  then  ?  "  he  added,  suddenly  remember- 
ing his  debt  to  Evan. 

Mrs.  Shorne  instructed  him  how  to  do  it  quietly,  and 
without  fear  of  scandal.  The  miserable  champion  replied 
that  it  was  very  well  for  her  to  tell  him  to  say  this  and 
that,   but  —  and    she   thought    him    demented  —  he   must, 


308  EVAN  HARRmGTON 

previous  to  addressing  Harrington  in  those  terms,  have 
money. 

"  Money ! "  echoed  the  lady.     "  Money ! " 

"  Yes,  money ! "  he  iterated  doggedly,  and  she  learnt  that 
he  had  borrowed  a  sum  of  JHarrington,  and  the  amount  of 
the  sum. 

It  was  a  disastrous  plight,  for  Mrs.  Shorne  was  penniless. 

She  cited  Ferdinand  Laxley  as  a  likely  lender. 

"  Oh,  I'm  deep  with  him  already,"  said  Harry,  in  apparent 
dejection. 

"  How  dreadful  are  these  everlasting  borrowings  of  yours ! " 
exclaimed  his  aunt,  unaware  of  a  trifling  incongruity  in  her 
sentiments.  "  You  must  speak  to  him  without  —  pay  him 
by-and-by.  We  must  scrape  the  money  together.  I  will 
write  to  your  grandfather." 

"  Yes ;  speak  to  him !  How  can  I  when  I  owe  him  ?  I 
can't  tell  a  fellow  he's  a  blackguard  when  I  owe  him,  and  I 
can't  speak  any  other  way.  I  ain't  a  diplomatist.  Dashed 
if  I  know  what  to  do ! " 

"  Juliana,"  murmured  his  aunt. 

"  Can't  ask  her,  you  know." 

Mrs.  Shorne  combated  the  one  prominent  reason  for  the 
objection :  but  there  were  two.  Harry  believed  that  he  had 
exhausted  Juliana's  treasury.  Reproaching  him  further  for 
his  wastefulness,  Mrs.  Shorne  promised  him  the  money 
should  be  got,  by  hook  or  by  crook,  next  day. 

"And  you  will  speak  to  this  Mr.  Harrington  to-night, 
Harry  ?  No  allusion  to  the  loan  till  you  return  it.  Appeal 
to  his  sense  of  honour." 

The  dinner-bell  assembled  the  inmates  of  the  house.  Evan 
was  not  among  them.  He  had  gone,  as  the  Countess  said 
aloud,  on  a  diplomatic  mission  to  Fallowfield,  Avith  Andrew 
Cogglesby.  The  truth  being  that  he  had  finally  taken 
Andrew  into  his  confidence  concerning  the  letter,  the  an- 
nuity, and  the  bond.  Upon  which  occasion  Andrew  had 
burst  into  a  laugh,  and  said  he  could  lay  his  hand  on  the 
writer  of  the  letter. 

"  Trust  Old  Tom  for  plots,  Van !  He'll  blow  you  up  in  a 
twinkling,  the  cunning  old  dog !  He  pretends  to  be  hard  — 
he's  as  soft  as  I  am,  if  it  wasn't  for  his  crotchets.  We'll 
hand  him  back  the  cash,  and  that's  ended.     And  —  eh? 


PRELUDE  TO  AN  ENGAGEMENT  309 

what  a  dear  girl  she  is !  Not  that  I'm  astonished.  My 
Harry  might  have  married  a  lord  —  sit  at  top  of  any  table 
in  the  land !  And  you're  as  good  as  any  man.  That's  my 
opinion.     But  I  say  she's  a  wonderful  girl  to  see  it," 

Chattering  thus,  Andrew  drove  with  the  dear  boy  into 
Fallowfield.  Evan  was  still  in  his  dream.  To  him  the 
generous  love  and  valiant  openness  of  Rose,  though  they 
were  matched  in  his  own  bosom,  seemed  scarcely  human. 
Almost  as  noble  to  him  were  the  gentlemanly  plain-speaking 
of  Sir  Franks  and  Lady  Jocelyn's  kind  common-sense.  But 
the  more  he  esteemed  them,  the  more  unbounded  and  mirac- 
ulous appeared  the  prospect  of  his  calling  their  daughter  by 
the  sacred  name,  and  kneeling  with  her  at  their  feet.  Did 
the  dear  heavens  have  that  in  store  for  him  ?  The  horizon 
edges  were  dimly  lighted, 

Harry  looked  about  under  his  eye-lids  for  Evan,  trying  at 
the  same  time  to  compose  himself  for  the  martyrdom  he  had 
to  endure  in  sitting  at  table  with  the  presumptuous  fellow. 
The  Countess  signalled  him  to  come  within  the  presence.  As 
he  was  crossing  the  room.  Rose  entered,  and  moved  to  meet 
him,  with :  "  Ah,  Harry !  back  again !     Glad  to  see  you." 

Harry  gave  her  a  blunt  nod,  to  which  she  was  inattentive. 

"What!"  whispered  the  Countess,  after  he  pressed  the 
tips  of  her  fingers,     "  Have  you  brought  back  the  grocer  ?  " 

Now  this  was  hard  to  stand.  Harry  could  forgive  her 
her  birth,  and  pass  it  utterly  by  if  she  chose  to  fall  in  love 
with  him ;  but  to  hear  the  grocer  mentioned,  when  he  knew 
of  the  tailor,  was  a  little  too  much,  and  what  Harry  felt  his 
ingenuous  countenance  was  accustomed  to  exhibit.  The 
Countess  saw  it.  She  turned  her  head  from  him  to  the 
diplomatist,  and  he  had  to  remain  like  a  sentinel  at  her 
feet.  He  did  not  want  to  be  thanked  for  the  green  box: 
still  he  thought  she  might  have  favoured  him  with  one  of 
her  much-embracing  smiles. 

In  the  evening,  after  wine,  when  he  was  warm,  and  had 
almost  forgotten  the  insult  to  his  family  and  himself,  the 
Countess  snubbed  him.  It  was  unwise  on  her  part,  but  she 
had  the  ghastly  thought  that  facts  were  oozing  out,  and 
were  already  half  known.  She  was  therefore  sensitive  ten- 
fold to  appearances  ;  savage  if  one  failed  to  keep  up  her  lie 
to  her,  and  was  guilty  of  a  shadow  of  difference  of  behaviour. 


310  EVAN  HABRINGTON 

The  pic-nic  over,  our  General  would  evacuate  Beckley  Court, 
and  shake  the  dust  off  her  shoes,  and  leave  the  harvest  of 
what  she  had  sown  to  Providence.  Till  then,  respect,  and 
the  honours  of  war !  So  the  Countess  snubbed  him,  and  he 
being  full  of  wine,  fell  into  the  hands  of  Juliana  who  had 
witnessed  the  little  scene. 

"  She  has  made  a  fool  of  others  as  well  as  of  you,"  said 
Juliana. 

"  How  has  she  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"Never  mind.  Do  you  want  to  make  her  humble  and 
crouch  to  you  ?  " 

"I  want  to  see  Harrington,"  said  Harry. 

"  He  will  not  return  to-night  from  Fallowfield.  He  has 
gone  there  to  get  Mr.  Andrew  Cogglesby's  brother  to  do 
something  for  him.  You  won't  have  such  another  chance 
of  humbling  them  both  —  both!  I  told  you  his  mother  is 
at  an  inn  here.  The  Countess  has  sent  Mr.  Harrington  to 
Fallowfield  to  be  out  of  the  way,  and  she  has  told  her 
mother  all  sorts  of  falsehoods." 

"How  do  you  know  all  that?"  quoth  Harry.  "By 
Jove,  Juley !  talk  about  plotters !  No  keeping  anything 
from  you,  ever ! " 

"Never  mind.  The  mother  is  here.  She  must  be  a 
vulgar  woman.  Oh!  if  you  could  manage,  Harry,  to  get 
this  woman  to  come  —  you  could  do  it  so  easily  !  —  while  they 
are  at  the  pic-nic  to-morrow.  It  would  have  the  best  effect 
on  Rose.    She  would  then  understand  !    And  the  Countess  ! " 

"  I  could  send  the  old  woman  a  message ! "  cried  Harry, 
rushing  into  the  scheme,  inspired  by  Juliana's  fiery  eyes. 
"  Send  her  a  sort  of  message  to  say  where  we  all  were." 

"  Let  her  know  that  her  son  is  here,  in  some  way,"  Juley 
resumed. 

"And,  egad !  what  an  explosion ! "  pursued  Harry.  " But, 
suppose  —  " 

"  No  one  shall  know,  if  you  leave  it  to  me  —  if  you  do 
just  as  I  tell  you,  Harr}"-.  You  won't  be  treated  as  you  were 
this  evening  after  that,  if  you  bring  down  her  pride.  And, 
Harry,  I  hear  you  want  money  —  I  can  give  you  some." 

"  You're  a  perfect  trump,  Juley ! "  exclaimed  her  enthusi- 
astic cousin.  "But,  no;  I  can't  take  it.  I  must  kiss  you, 
though." 


PRELUDE  TO   AN  ENGAGEMENT  311 

He  put  a  kiss  upon  her  cheek.  Once  his  kisses  had  left  a 
red  waxen  stamp ;  she  was  callous  to  these  compliments  now. 

"Will  you  do  what  I  advise  you  to-morrow?  "  she  asked. 

After  a  slight  hesitation,  during  which  the  olive-hued 
visage  flittered  faintly  in  the  distances  of  his  brain,  Harry 
said: 

"It'll  do  Eose  good,  and  make  Harrington  cut.  Yes!  I 
declare  I  will." 

Then  they  parted.  Juliana  went  to  her  bed-room,  and 
flung  herself  upon  the  bed  hysterically.  As  the  tears  came 
thick  and  fast,  she  jumped  up  to  lock  the  door,  for  this 
outrageous  habit  of  crying  had  made  her  contemptible  in 
the  eyes  of  Lady  Jocelyn,  and  an  object  of  pity  to  Eose. 
Some  excellent  and  noble  natures  cannot  tolerate  disease, 
and  are  mystified  by  its  ebullitions.  It  was  very  sad  to  see 
the  slight  thin  frame  grasped  by  those  wan  hands  to  contain 
the  violence  of  the  frenzy  that  possessed  her!  the  pale,  hap- 
less face  rigid  above  the  torment  in  her  bosom !  She  had 
prayed  to  be  loved  like  other  girls,  and  her  readiness  to 
give  her  heart  in  return  had  made  her  a  by-word  in  the 
house.  She  went  to  the  window  and  leaned  out  on  the 
casement,  looking  towards  Fallowfield  over  the  downs,  weep- 
ing bitterly,  with  a  hard  shut  mouth.  One  brilliant  star 
hung  above  the  ridge,  and  danced  on  her  tears. 

"Will  he  forgive  me?"  she  murmured.  "Oh,  my  God! 
I  wish  we  were  dead  together !  " 

Her  weeping  ceased,  and  she  closed  the  window,  and 
undressed  as  far  away  from  the  mirror  as  she  could  get; 
but  its  force  was  too  much  for  her,  and  drew  her  to  it. 
Some  undefined  hope  had  sprung  in  her  suddenly.  With 
nervous  slow  steps  she  approached  the  glass,  and  first 
brushing  back  the  masses  of  black  hair  from  her  brow, 
looked  as  for  some  new  revelation.  Long  and  anxiously 
she  perused  her  features :  the  wide  bony  forehead ;  the  eyes 
deep-set  and  rounded  with  the  scarlet  of  recent  tears,  the 
thin  nose  —  sharp  as  the  dead;  the  weak  irritable  mouth 
and  sunken  cheeks.  She  gazed  like  a  spirit  disconnected 
from  what  she  saw.  Presently  a  sort  of  forlorn  negative 
was  indicated  by  the  motion  of  her  head. 

"I  can  pardon  him,"  she  said,  and  sighed.  "How  could 
he  love  such  a  face ! " 


312  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

CHAPTER  XXX 

THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BULL-DOGS. — PART  I 

At  the  south-western  extremity  of  the  park,  with  a  view 
extending  over  wide  meadows  and  troubled  mill-waters, 
yellow  barn-roofs  and  weather-grey  old  farm-walls,  two 
grassy  mounds  threw  their  slopes  to  the  margin  of  the 
stream.  Here  the  bull-dogs  held  revel.  The  hollow  between 
the  slopes  was  crowned  by  a  bending  birch,  which  rose  three- 
stemmed  from  the  root,  and  hung  a  noiseless  green  shower 
over  the  basin  of  green  it  shadowed.  Beneath  it  the  inter- 
minable growl  sounded  pleasantly;  softly  shot  the  sparkle 
of  the  twisting  water,  and  you  might  dream  things  half- 
fulfilled.  Knots  of  fern  were  about,  but  the  tops  of  the 
mounds  were  firm  grass,  evidently  well  rolled,  and  with  an 
eye  to  airy  feet.  Olympus  one  eminence  was  called,  Par- 
nassus the  other.  Olympus  a  little  overlooked  Parnassus, 
but  Parnassus  was  broader  and  altogether  better  adapted 
for  the  games  of  the  Muses.  Round  the  edges  of  both 
there  was  a  well-trimmed  bush  of  laurel,  obscuring  only 
the  feet  of  the  dancers  from  the  observing  gods.  For  on 
Olympus  the  elders  reclined.  Great  efforts  had  occasionally 
been  made  to  dispossess  and  unseat  them,  and  their  security 
depended  mainly  on  a  hump  in  the  middle  of  the  mound 
which  defied  the  dance. 

Watteau-like  groups  were  already  couched  in  the  shade. 
There  were  ladies  of  all  sorts :  town-bred  and  country -bred: 
farmers'  daughters  and  daughters  of  peers :  for  this  pic-nic, 
as  Lady  Jocelyn,  disgusting  the  Countess,  would  call  it, 
was  in  reality  a  fete  champgtre,  given  annually,  to  which 
the  fair  offspring  of  the  superior  tenants  were  invited  —  the 
brothers  and  fathers  coming  to  fetch  them  in  the  evening. 
It  struck  the  eye  of  the  Countess  de  Saldar  that  Olympus 
would  be  a  fitting  throne  for  her,  and  a  point  whence  her 
shafts  might  fly  without  fear  of  a  return.  Like  another 
illustrious  General  at  Salamanca,  she  directed  a  detachment 
to  take  possession  of  the  height.  Courtly  Sir  John  Loring 
ran  up  at  once,  and  gave  the  diplomatist  an  opportunity  to 


THE  BATTLE   OF   THE  BFLL-DOGS  313 

thank  her  flatteringly  for  gaining  them  two  minutes  to 
themselves.  Sir  John  waved  his  handkerchief  in  triumph, 
welcoming  them  under  an  awning  where  carpets  and  cush- 
ions were  spread,  and  whence  the  Countess  could  eye  the 
field.  She  was  dressed  ravishingly;  slightly  in  a  foreign 
style,  the  bodice  being  peaked  at  the  waist,  as  was  then  the 
Portuguese  persuasion.  The  neck,  too,  was  deliciously  veiled 
with  fine  lace  —  and  thoroughly  veiled,  for  it  was  a  feature 
the  Countess  did  not  care  to  expose  to  the  vulgar  daylight. 
Off  he;  gentle  shoulders,  as  it  were  some  fringe  of  cloud 
blown  by  the  breeze  this  sweet  lady  opened  her  bosom  to, 
curled  a  lovely  black  lace  scarf:  not  Caroline's.  If  she 
laughed,  the  tinge  of  mourning  lent  her  laughter  new 
charms.  If  she  sighed,  the  exuberant  array  of  her  apparel 
bade  the  spectator  be  of  good  cheer.  Was  she  witty,  men 
surrendered  reason  and  adored  her.  Only  when  she  entered 
the  majestic  mood,  and  assumed  the  languors  of  greatness, 
and  recited  musky  anecdotes  of  her  intimacy  with  it,  only 
then  did  mankind,  as  represented  at  Beckley  Court,  open 
an  internal  eye  and  reflect  that  it  was  wonderful  in  a  tailor's 
daughter.  And  she  felt  that  mankind  did  so  reflect.  Her 
instincts  did  not  deceive  her.  She  knew  not  how  much  was 
known;  in  the  depths  of  her  heart  she  kept  low  the  fear 
that  possibly  all  might  be  known;  and  succeeding  in  this, 
she  said  to  herself  that  probably  nothing  was  known  after 
all.  George  XJploft,  Miss  Carrington,  and  Eose  were  the 
three  she  abhorred.  Partly  to  be  out  of  their  way,  and  to 
be  out  of  the  way  of  chance  shots  (for  she  had  heard  names 
of  people  coming  that  reminded  her  of  Dubbins's,  where,  in 
past  days,  there  had  been  on  one  awful  occasion  a  terrific 
aiscovery  made),  the  Countess  selected  Olympus  for  her 
station.  It  was  her  last  day,  and  she  determined  to  be 
happy.  Doubtless,  she  was  making  a  retreat,  but  have  not 
illustrious  Generals  snatched  victory  from  their  pursuers? 
Fair,  then,  sweet,  and  full  of  grace,  the  Countess  moved. 
As  the  restless  shifting  of  colours  to  her  motions  was  the 
constant  interchange  of  her  semi-sorrowful  manner  and 
ready  archness.  Sir  John  almost  capered  to  please  her, 
and  the  diplomatist  in  talking  to  her  forgot  his  diplomacy 
and  the  craft  of  his  tongue. 

It  was  the  last  day  also  of  Caroline  and  the  Duke.     The 


314  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Countess  clung  to  Caroline  and  the  Duke  more  than  to  Evan 
and  Rose.  She  could  see  the  first  couple  walking  under  an 
avenue  of  limes,  and  near  them  that  young  man  or  monkey, 
Raikes,  as  if  in  ambush.  Twice  they  passed  him,  and 
twice  he  doffed  his  hat  and  did  homage. 

"  A  most  singular  creature ! "  exclaimed  the  Countess. 
"It  is  my  constant  marvel  where  my  brother  discovered 
such  a  curiosity.     Do  notice  him." 

"That  man?  Raikes?"  said  the  diplomatist.  "Do  you 
know  he  is  our  rival?  Harry  wanted  an  excuse  for  another 
bottle  last  night,  and  proposed  the  'Member'  for  Fallow- 
field.     Up  got  this  Mr.  Raikes  and  returned  thanks." 

"Yes?"  the  Countess  negligently  interjected  in  a  way 
she  had  caught  from  Lady  Jocelyn. 

"Cogglesby's  nominee,  apparently." 

"I  know  it  all,"  said  the  Countess.  "We  need  have  no 
apprehension.  He  is  docile.  My  brother-in-law's  brother, 
you  see,  is  most  eccentric.  We  can  manage  him  best  through 
this  Mr.  Raikes,  for  a  personal  application  would  be  ruin. 
He  quite  detests  our  family,  and  indeed  all  the  aris- 
tocracy." 

Melville's  mouth  pursed,  and  he  looked  very  grave. 

Sir  John  remarked :  "  He  seems  like  a  monkey  just  turned 
into  a  man." 

"And  doubtful  about  the  tail,"  added  the  Countess. 

The  image  was  tolerably  correct,  but  other  causes  were  at 
the  bottom  of  the  air  worn  by  John  Raikes.  The  Countess 
had  obtained  an  invitation  for  him,  with  instructions  that 
he  should  come  early,  and  he  had  followed  them  so  implic- 
itly that  the  curricle  was  flinging  dust  on  the  hedges  between 
Fallowfield  and  Beckley  but  an  hour  or  two  after  the  chariot 
of  Apollo  had  mounted  the  heavens,  and  Mr.  Raikes  pre- 
sented himself  at  the  breakfast  table.  Fortunately  for  him 
the  Countess  was  there.  After  the  repast  she  introduced 
him  to  the  Duke :  and  he  bowed  to  the  Duke,  and  the  Duke 
bowed  to  him :  and  now,  to  instance  the  peculiar  justness 
in  thp  mind  of  Mr.  Raikes,  he,  though  he  worshipped  a  coro- 
net and  would  gladly  have  recalled  the  feudal  times  to  a 
corrupt  land,  could  not  help  thinking  that  his  bow  had 
beaten  the  Duke's  and  was  better.  He  would  rather  not 
have  thought  so,  for  it  upset  his  preconceptions  and  threat- 


THE  BATTLE   OF   THE  BULL-DOGS  315 

ened  a  revolution  in  his  ideas.  For  this  reason  he  followed 
the  Duke,  and  tried,  if  possible,  to  correct,  or  at  least 
chasten  the  impressions  he  had  of  possessing  a  glaring 
advantage  over  the  nobleman.  The  Duke's  second  notice 
of  him  was  hardly  a  nod.  "  Well !  "  Mr.  Raikes  reflected, 
"if  this  is  your  Duke,  why,  egad!  for  figure  and  style  my 
friend  Harrington  beats  him  hollow."  And  Raikes  thought 
he  knew  who  could  conduct  a  conversation  with  superior 
dignity  and  neatness.  The  torchlight  of  a  delusion  was 
extinguished  in  him,  but  he  did  not  wander  long  in  that 
gloomy  cavernous  darkness  of  the  disenchanted,  as  many 
of  us  do,  and  as  Evan  had  done,  when  after  a  week  at 
Beckley  Court  he  began  to  examine  of  what  stuif  his  brill- 
iant father,  the  great  Mel,  was  composed^  On  the  con- 
trary, as  the  light  of  the  Duke  dwindled,  Raikes  gained  in 
lustre.  "In  fact,"  he  said,  "there's  nothing  but  the  title 
wanting."  He  was  by  this  time  on  a  level  with  the  Duke 
in  his  elastic  mind. 

Olympus  had  been  held  in  possession  by  the  Countess 
about  half-an-hour,  when  Lady  Jocelyn  mounted  it,  quite 
unconscious  that  she  was  scaling  a  fortified  point.  The 
Countess  herself  fired  off  the  first  gun  at  her. 

"  It  has  been  so  extremely  delightful  up  alone  here.  Lady 
Jocelyn :  to  look  at  everybody  below !  I  hope  many  will 
not  intrude  on  us !  " 

"None  but  the  dowagers  who  have  breath  to  get  up," 
replied  her  ladyship,  panting.  "By  the  way.  Countess, 
you  hardly  belong  to  us  yet.     You  dance?  " 

"Indeed,  I  do  not." 

"Oh,  then  you  are  in  your  right  place.  A  dowager  is 
a  woman  who  doesn't  dance :  and  her  male  attendant  is  — 
what  is  he?    We  will  call  him  a  fogy." 

Lady  Jocelyn  directed  a  smile  at  Melville  and  Sir  John, 
who  both  protested  that  it  was  an  honour  to  be  the  Count- 
ess's fogy. 

Rose  now  joined  them,  with  Laxley  morally  dragged  in 
her  wake. 

"  Another  dowager  and  fogy ! "  cried  the  Countess,  musi- 
cally.    "  Do  you  not  dance,  my  child?  " 

"Not  till  the  music  strikes  up,"  rejoined  Rose.  "I  sup- 
pose we  shall  have  to  eat  first." 


316  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"That  is  the  Hamlet  of  the  pic-nic  play,  I  believe,"  said 
her  mother. 

"Of  course  you  dance,  don't  you,  Countess?"  E>ose 
inquired,  for  the  sake  of  amiable  conversation. 

The  Countess's  head  signified:  "Oh,  no!  quite  out  of 
the  question : "  she  held  up  a  little  bit  of  her  mournful 
draperies,  adding:  "Besides,  you,  dear  child,  know  your 
company,  and  can  select;  /  do  not,  and  cannot  do  so.  I 
understand  we  have  .a  most  varied  assembly!  " 

Rose  shut  her  eyes,  and  then  looked  at  her  mother.  Lady 
Jocelyn's  face  was  undisturbed;  but  while  her  eyes  were 
still  upon  the  Countess,  she  drew  her  head  gently  back, 
imperceptibly.  If  anything,  she  was  admiring  the  lady; 
but  Rose  could  be  no  placid  philosophic  spectator  of  what 
was  to  her  a  horrible  assumption  and  hypocrisy.  For  the 
sake  of  him  she  loved,  she  had  swallowed  a  nauseous  cup 
bravely.  The  Countess  was  too  much  for  her.  Slie  felt 
sick  to  think  of  being  allied  to  this  person.  She  had  a 
shuddering  desire  to  run  into  the  ranks  of  the  world,  and 
hide  her  head  from  multitudinous  hootings.  With  a  pang 
of  envy  she  saw  her  friend  Jenny  walking  by  the  side  of 
William  Harvey,  happy,  untried,  unoffending:  full  of  hope, 
and  without  any  bitter  draughts  to  swallow ! 

Aunt  Bel  now  came  tripping  up  gaily. 

"Take  the  alternative,  douairiere  or  demoiselle?"  cried 
Lady  Jocelyn.  "We  must  have  a  sharp  distinction,  or 
Olympus  will  be  mobbed." 

"Entre  les  deux,  s'il  vous  plait,"  responded  Aunt  Bel. 
"  Rose,  hurry  down,  and  leaven  the  mass.  I  see  ten  girls  in 
a  bunch.  It's  shocking.  Ferdinand,  pray  disperse  yourself. 
Why  is  it,  Emily,  that  we  are  always  in  excess  at  pic-nics  ? 
Is  man  dying  out  ?  " 

"  From  what  I  can  see,"  remarked  Lady  Jocelyn,  "  Harry 
will  be  lost  to  his  species  unless  some  one  quickly  relieves 
him.  He's  already  half  eaten  up  by  the  Conley  girls.  Count- 
ess, isn't  it  your  duty  to  rescue  him  ?  " 

The  Countess  bowed,  and  murmured  to  Sir  John : 

"  A  dismissal ! " 

"  I  fear  my  fascinations,  Lady  Jocelyn,  may  not  compete 
with  those  fresh  young  persons." 

"  Ha !  ha !  '  fresh  young  persons,' "  laughed  Sir  John :  for 


THE  BATTLE   OF   THE   BULL-DOGS  317 

the  ladies  in  question  were  romping  boisterously  with  Mr. 
Harry. 

The  Countess  inquired  for  the  names  and  condition  of  the 
ladies,  and  was  told  that  they  sprang  from  Farmer  Conley,  a 
well-to-do  son  of  the  soil,  who  farmed  about  a  couple  of 
thousand  acres  between  Fallowfield  and  Beckley,  and  bore  a 
good  reputation  at  the  county  bank. 

"  But  I  do  think,"  observed  the  Countess,  "  it  must  indeed 
be  pernicious  for  any  youth  to  associate  with  that  class  of 
woman.     A  deterioration  of  manners  ! " 

Rose  looked  at  her  mother  again.  She  thought :  "  Those 
girls  would  scorn  to  marry  a  tradesman's  son ! " 

The  feeling  grew  in  Rose  that  the  Countess  lowered  and 
degraded  her.  Her  mother's  calm  contemplation  of  the  lady 
was  more  distressing  than  if  she  had  expressed  the  contempt 
Rose  was  certain,  according  to  her  young  ideas.  Lady  Jocelyn 
must  hold. 

Now  the  Countess  had  been  considering  that  she  would 
like  to  have  a  word  or  two  with  Mr.  Harry,  and  kissing  her 
fingers  to  the  occupants  of  Olympus,  and  fixing  her  fancy  on 
the  diverse  thoughts  of  the  ladies  and  gentlemen,  deduced 
from  a  rapturous  or  critical  contemplation  of  her  figure  from 
behind,  she  descended  the  slope. 

Was  it  going  to  be  a  happy  day  ?  The  well-imagined  opin- 
ions of  the  gentleman  on  her  attire  and  style,  made  her  lean 
to  the  affirmative ;  but  Rose's  demure  behaviour,  and  some- 
thing —  something  would  come  across  her  hopes.  She  had, 
as  she  now  said  to  herself,  stopped  for  the  pic-nic,  mainly  to 
give  Caroline  a  last  opportunity  of  binding  the  Duke  to  visit 
the  Cogglesby  saloons  in  London.  Let  Caroline  cleverly  con- 
trive this,  as  she  might,  without  any  compromise,  and  the 
stay  at  Beckley  Court  would  be  a  great  gain.  Yes,  Caroline 
was  still  with  the  Duke ;  they  were  talking  earnestly.  The 
Countess  breathed  a  short  appeal  to  Providence  that  Caroline 
might  not  prove  a  fool.  Overnight  she  had  said  to  Caroline  : 
"  Do  not  be  so  English.  Can  one  not  enjoy  friendship  with 
a  nobleman  without  wounding  one's  conscience  or  breaking 
with  the  world  ?  My  dear,  the  Duke  visiting  you,  you  coio 
that  infamous  Strike  of  yours.  He  will  be  utterly  obse- 
quious !  I  am  not  telling  you  to  pass  the  line.  The  contrary. 
But  we  continentals  have  our  grievous  reputation  because  we 


318  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

dare  to  meet,  as  intellectual  beings,  and  defy  the  imputation 
that  ladies  and  gentlemen  are  no  better  than  animals." 

It  sounded  very  lofty  to  Caroline,  who,  accepting  its  sin- 
cerity, replied : 

"  I  cannot  do  things  by  halves.  I  cannot  live  a  life  of 
deceit.     A  life  of  misery — not  deceit." 

Whereupon,  pitpng  her  poor  English  nature,  the  Countess 
gave  her  advice,  and  this  advice  she  now  implored  her 
familiars  to  instruct  or  compel  Caroline  to  follow. 

The  Countess's  garment  was  plucked  at.  She  beheld  little 
Dorothy  Loring  glancing  up  at  her  with  the  roguish  timidity 
of  her  years. 

"  May  I  come  with  you?  "  asked  the  little  maid,  and  went 
off  into  a  prattle :  "  I  spent  that  five  shillings  —  I  bought  a 
shilling's  worth  of  sweet  stuff,  and  nine  penn'orth  of  twine, 
and  a  shilling  for  small  wax  candles  to  light  in  my  room 
when  I'm  going  to  bed,  because  I  like  plenty  of  light  by  the 
looking-glass  always,  and  they  do  make  the  room  so  hot ! 
My  Jane  declared  she  almost  fainted,  but  I  burnt  them  out ! 
Then  I  only  had  very  little  left  for  a  horse  to  mount  my  doll 
on ;  and  I  wasn't  going  to  get  a  screw,  so  I  went  to  Papa, 
and  he  gave  me  five  shillings.  And,  oh,  do  you  know,  Rose 
can't  bear  me  to  be  with  you.  Jealousy,  I  suppose,  for 
you're  very  agreeable.  And,  do  you  know,  your  Mama  is 
coming  to-day  ?  I've  got  a  Papa  and  no  Mama,  and  you've 
got  a  Mama  and  no  Papa.  Isn't  it  funny?  But  I  don't 
think  so  much  of  it,  as  you're  grown  up.  Oh,  I'm  quite  sure 
she  is  coming,  because  I  heard  Harry  telling  Juley  she  was, 
and  Juley  said  it  would  be  so  gratifying  to  you." 

A  bribe  and  a  message  relieved  the  Countess  of  Dorothy's 
attendance  on  her. 

What  did  this  mean?  Were  people  so  base  as  to  be 
guilty  of  hideous  plots  in  this  house  ?  Her  mother  coming ! 
The  Countess's  blood  turned  deadly  chill.  Had  it  been  her 
father  she  would  not  have  feared,  but  her  mother  was  so 
vilely  plain  of  speech;  she  never  opened  her  mouth  save 
to  deliver  facts:  which  was  to  the  Countess  the  sign  of 
atrocious  vulgarity. 

But  her  mother  had  written  to  say  she  would  wait  for 
Evan  in  Fallowfield !  The  Countess  grasped  at  straws. 
Did  Dorothy  hear  that  ?    And  if  Harry  and  Juliana  spoke 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BULL-DOGS  319 

of  her  mother,  what  did  that  mean  ?  That  she  was  hunted, 
and  must  stand  at  bay ! 

"  Oh,  Papa !  Papa !  why  did  you  marry  a  Dawley  ?  "  she 
exclaimed,  plunging  to  what  was,  in  her  idea,  the  root  of 
the  evil. 

She  had  no  time  for  outcries  and  lamentations.  It  dawned 
on  her  that  this  was  to  be  a  day  of  battle.  Where  was 
Harry  ?  Still  in  the  midst  of  the  Conley  throng,  appar- 
ently pooh-poohing  something,  to  judge  by  the  twist  of  his 
mouth. 

The  Countess  delicately  signed  for  him  to  approach  her. 
The  extreme  delicacy  of  the  signal  was  at  least  an  excuse 
for  Harry  to  perceive  nothing.  It  was  renewed,  and  Harry 
burst  into  a  fit  of  laughter  at  some  fim  of  one  of  the  Conley 
girls.  The  Countess  passed  on,  and  met  Juliana  pacing  by 
herself  near  the  lower  gates  of  the  park.  She  wished  only 
to  see  how  Juliana  behaved.  The  girl  looked  perfectly 
trustful,  as  much  so  as  when  the  Countess  was  pouring  in 
her  ears  the  tales  of  Evan's  growing  but  bashful  affection 
for  her. 

"  He  will  soon  be  here,"  whispered  the  Countess.  "  Has 
he  told  you  he  will  come  by  this  entrance  ?  " 

"  No,"  replied  Juliana. 

"  You  do  not  look  well,  sweet  child." 

"  I  was  thinking  that  you  did  not,  Countess  ?  " 

"  Oh,  indeed,  yes !  With  reason,  alas  !  All  our  visitors 
have  by  this  time  arrived,  I  presume  ?  " 

"They  come  all  day." 

The  Countess  hastened  away  from  one  who,  when  roused, 
could  be  almost  as  clever  as  herself,  and  again  stood  in 
meditation  near  the  joyful  Harry.  This  time  she  did  not 
signal  so  discreetly.  Harry  could  not  but  see  it,  and  the 
Conley  girls  accused  him  of  cruelty  to  the  beautiful  dame, 
which  novel  idea  stung  Harry  with  delight,  and  he  held  out 
to  indulge  in  it  a  little  longer.  His  back  was  half  turned, 
and  as  he  talked  noisily,  he  could  not  observe  the  serene 
and  resolute  march  of  the  Countess  toward  him.  The  youth 
gaped  when  he  found  his  arm  taken  prisoner  by  the  in- 
sertion of  a  small  deliciously-gloved  and  perfumed  hand 
through  it. 

"  I  must  claim  you  for  a  few  moments,"  said  the  Countess, 


320  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

and  took  the  startled  Conley  girls  one  and  all  in  her  beauti- 
ful smile  of  excuse. 

"  Why  do  you  compromise  me  thus,  sir  ?  " 

These  astounding  words  were  spoken  out  of  the  hearing 
of  the  Conley  girls. 

"  Compromise  you !  "  muttered  Harry. 

Masterly  was  the  skill  with  which  the  Countess  contrived 
to  speak  angrily  and  as  an  injured  woman,  while  she  wore 
an  indifferent  social  countenance. 

"  I  repeat,  compromise  me.  No,  Mr.  Harry  Jocelyn,  you 
are  not  the  jackanapes  you  try  to  make  people  think  you : 
you  understand  me." 

The  Countess  might  accuse  him,  but  Harry  never  had  the 
ambition  to  make  people  think  him  that :  his  natural  ten- 
dency was  the  reverse :  and  he  objected  to  the  application 
of  the  word  jackanapes  to  himself,  and  was  ready  to  contest 
the  fact  of  people  having  that  opinion  at  all.  However,  all 
he  did  was  to  repeat :  "  Compromise  ! " 

"  Is  not  open  unkindness  to  me  compromising  me  ?  " 

"  How  ?  "  asked  Harry. 

"  Would  you  dare  to  do  it  to  a  strange  lady  ?  Would  you 
have  the  impudence  to  attempt  it  with  any  woman  here 
but  me  ?  No,  I  am  innocent ;  it  is  my  consolation ;  I  have 
resisted  you,  but  you  by  this  cowardly  behaviour  place  me 
—  and  my  reputation,  which  is  more  —  at  your  mercy.  Noble 
behaviour,  Mr.  Harry  Jocelyn !  I  shall  remember  my  young 
English  gentleman." 

The  view  was  totally  new  to  Harry. 

"I  really  had  no  idea  of  compromising  you,"  he  said. 
"  Upon  my  honour,  I  can't  see  how  I  did  it  now ! " 

"  Oblige  me  by  walking  less  in  the  neighbourhood  of  those 
fat-faced  glaring  farm-girls,"  the  Countess  spoke  under  her 
breath ;  "  and  don't  look  as  if  you  were  being  whipped.  The 
art  of  it  is  evident  —  you  are  but  carrying  on  the  game.  — 
Listen.  If  you  permit  yourself  to  exhibit  an  unkindness  to 
me,  you  show  to  any  man  who  is  a  judge,  and  to  eveiy 
woman,  that  there  has  been  something  between  us.  You 
know  my  innocence  —  yes !  but  you  must  punish  me  for  hav- 
ing resisted  you  thus  long." 

Harry  swore  he  never  had  such  an  idea,  and  was  much 
too  much  of  a  man  and  a  gentleman  to  behave  in  that  way. 


THE  BATTLE   OF   THE   BULL-DOGS  321 

—  And  yet  it  seemed  wonderfully  clever !  And  here  was 
the  Countess  saying: 

"  Take  your  reward,  Mr.  Harry  Jocelyn.  You  have  suc- 
ceeded ;  I  am  your  humble  slave.  I  come  to  you  and  sue 
for  peace.  To  save  my  reputation  I  endanger  myself.  This 
is  generous  of  you." 

"  Am  I  such  a  clever  fellow  ?  "  thought  the  young  gentle- 
man. "  Deuced  lucky  with  women : "  he  knew  that :  still  a 
fellow  must  be  wonderfully,  miraculously,  clever  to  be  able 
to  twist  and  spin  about  such  a  woman  as  this  in  that  way. 
He  did  not  object  to  conceive  that  he  was  the  fellow  to  do  it. 
Besides,  here  was  the  Countess  de  Saldar  —  worth  five  hun- 
dred of  the  Conley  girls  —  almost  at  his  feet ! 

Mollified,  he  said :  "  Now,  didn't  you  begin  it  ?  " 

"  Evasion !  "  was  the  answer.  "  It  would  be  such  pleasure 
to  you  to  see  a  proud  woman  weep !  And  if  yesterday,  per- 
secuted as  I  am,  with  dreadful  falsehoods  abroad  respecting 
me  and  mine,  if  yesterday  I  did  seem  cold  to  your  great 
merits,  is  it  generous  of  you  to  take  this  revenge  ?  " 

Harry  began  to  scent  the  double  meaning  in  her  words. 
She  gave  him  no  time  to  grow  cool  over  it.  She  leaned, 
half  abandoned,  on  his  arm.  Arts  feminine  and  irresistible 
encompassed  him.  It  was  a  fatal  mistake  of  Juliana's  to 
enlist  Harry  Jocelyn  against  the  Countess  de  Saldar.  He 
engaged,  still  without  any  direct  allusion  to  the  real  busi- 
ness, to  move  heaven  and  earth  to  undo  all  that  he  had 
done;  and  the  Countess  implied  an  engagement  to  do — 
what  ?  more  than  she  intended  to  fulfil. 

Ten  minutes  later  she  was  alone  with  Caroline. 

"  Tie  yourself  to  the  Duke  at  the  dinner,"  she  said,  in  the 
forcible  phrase  she  could  use  when  necessary.  "  Don't  let 
them  scheme  to  separate  you.     Never  mind  looks  —  do  it !  " 

Caroline,  however,  had  her  reasons  for  desiring  to  main- 
tain appearances.     The  Countess  dashed  at  her  hesitation. 

"  There  is  a  plot  to  humiliate  us  in  the  most  abominable 
way.  The  whole  family  have  sworn  to  make  us  blush  pub- 
licly. Publicly  blush !  They  have  written  to  Mama  to 
come  and  speak  out.  Now  will  you  attend  to  me,  Caro- 
line ?  You  do  not  credit  such  atrocity  ?  I  know  it  to  be 
true." 

"  I  never  can  believe  that  Rose  would  do  such  a  thing," 


322  EVAN  HAERINGTON 

said  Caroline.  "  We  can  hardly  have  to  endure  more  than 
has  befallen  us  already." 

Her  speech  was  pensive,  as  of  one  who  had  matter  of  her 
own  to  ponder  over.  A  swift  illumination  burst  in  the 
Countess's  mind. 

"  No  ?  Have  you,  dear,  darling  Carry  ?  not  that  I  intend 
that  you  should!  but  to-day  the  Duke  would  be  such  in- 
effable support  to  us.  May  I  deem  you  have  not  been  too 
cruel  to-day  ?  You  dear  silly  English  creature,  '  Duck,'  I 
used  to  call  you  when  I  was  your  little  Louy.  All  is  not 
yet  lost,  but  I  will  save  you  from  the  ignominy  if  I  can.  I 
will ! " 

Caroline  denied  nothing  —  confirmed  nothing,  just  as  the 
Countess  had  stated  nothing.  Yet  they  understood  one  an- 
other perfectly.  Women  have  a  subtler  language  than  ours : 
the  veil  pertains  to  them  morally  as  bodily,  and  they  see 
clearer  through  it. 

The  Countess  had  no  time  to  lose.  Wrath  was  in  her 
heart.     She  did  not  lend  all  her  thoughts  to  self-defence. 

Without  phrasing  a  word,  or  absolutely  shaping  a  thought 
in  her  head,  she  slanted  across  the  sun  to  Mr.  Raikes,  who 
had  taken  refreshment,  and  in  obedience  to  his  instinct,  not- 
withstanding his  enormous  pretensions,  had  commenced  a 
few  preliminary  antics. 

"  Dear  Mr.  Raikes ! "  she  said,  drawing  him  aside,  "  not 
before  dinner ! " 

"  I  really  can't  contain  the  exuberant  flow ! "  returned  that 
gentleman.  "My  animal  spirits  always  get  the  better  of 
me,"  he  added  confidentially. 

"  Suppose  you  devote  your  animal  spirits  to  my  service  for 
half-an-hour." 

"  Yours,  Countess,  from  the  os  frontis  to  the  chine ! "  was 
the  exuberant  rejoinder. 

The  Countess  made  a  wry  mouth. 

"  Your  curricle  is  in  Beckley  ?  " 

"  Behold ! "  said  Jack.  "  Two  juveniles,  not  half  so  blest 
as  I,  do  from  the  seat  regard  the  festive  scene  o'er  yon  park- 
palings.  They  are  there,  even  Franko  and  Fred.  I'm  afraid 
I  promised  to  get  them  in  at  a  later  period  of  the  day. 
Which  sadly  sore  my  conscience  doth  disturb !  But  what 
is  to  be  done  about  the  curricle,  ray  Countess  ?  " 


THE  BATTLE  OF  THE  BULL-DOGS  323 

"  Mr,  Kaikes,"  said  the  Countess,  smiling  on  him  fixedly, 
"you  are  amusing;  but  in  addressing  me,  you  must  be 
precise,  and  above  all  things  accurate.  I  am  not  your 
Countess ! " 

He  bowed  profoundly.  "Oh,  that  I  might  say  'my 
Queen ! ' " 

The  Countess  replied :  "  A  conviction  of  your  lunacy  would 
prevent  my  taking  offence,  though  I  might  wish  you  enclosed 
and  guarded." 

Without  any  further  exclamations,  Raikes  acknowledged 
a  superior. 

"  And,  now,  attend  to  me,"  said  the  Countess.  "  Listen : 
You  go  yourself,  or  send  your  friends  instantly  to  Fallow- 
field.  Bring  with  you  that  girl  and  her  child.  Stop :  there 
is  such  a  person.  Tell  her  she  is  to  be  spoken  to  about 
the  prospects  of  the  poor  infant.  I  leave  that  to  your  in- 
ventive genius.  Evan  wishes  her  here.  Bring  her,  and 
should  you  see  the  mad  captain  who  behaves  so  oddly, 
favour  him  with  a  ride.  He  says  he  dreams  his  wife  is 
here,  and  he  will  not  reveal  his  name  !  Suppose  it  should 
be  my  own  beloved  husband !     I  am  quite  anxious." 

The  Countess  saw  him  go  up  to  the  palings  and  hold  a 
commimication  with  his  friends  Franko  and  Fred.  One  took 
the  whip,  and  after  mutual  flourishes,  drove  away. 

"Now!"  mused  the  Countess,  "if  Captain  Evremonde 
should  come ! "  It  would  break  up  the  pic-nic.  Alas !  the 
Countess  had  surrendered  her  humble  hopes  of  a  day's  pleas- 
ure. But  if  her  mother  came  as  well,  what  a  diversion  that 
would  be !  If  her  mother  came  before  the  Captain,  his  ar- 
rival would  cover  the  retreat ;  if  the  Captain  preceded  her, 
she  would  not  be  noticed.  Suppose  her  mother  refrained 
from  coming  ?  In  that  case  it  was  a  pity,  but  the  Jocelyns 
had  brought  it  on  themselves. 

This  mapping  out  of  consequences  followed  the  Countess's 
deeds,  and  did  not  inspire  them.  Her  passions  sharpened 
her  instincts,  which  produced  her  actions.  The  reflections 
ensued :  as  in  nature,  the  consequences  were  all  seen  subse- 
quently! Observe  the  difference  between  your  male  and 
female  Generals. 

On  reflection,  too,  the  Countess  praised  herself  for  having 
done  all  that  could  be  done.     She  might  have  written  to  hei 


324  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

mother:  but  her  absence  would  have  been  remarked:  her 
messenger  might  have  been  overhauled:  and,  lastly,  Mrs. 
Mel  —  "  Gorgon  of  a  mother !  "  the  Countess  cried  out :  for 
Mrs.  Mel  was  like  a  Fate  to  her.  She  could  remember 
only  two  occasions  in  her  whole  life  when  she  had  been  able 
to  manage  her  mother,  and  then  by  lying  in  such  a  way  as 
to  distress  her  conscience  severely. 

"  If  Mama  has  conceived  this  idea  of  coming,  nothing  will 
impede  her.  My  prayers  will  infuriate  her ! "  said  the 
Countess,  and  she  was  sure  that  she  had  acted  both  rightly 
and  with  wisdom. 

She  put  on  her  armour  of  smiles :  she  plunged  into  the 
thick  of  the  enemy.  Since  they  would  not  allow  her  to 
taste  human  happiness  —  she  had  asked  but  for  the  pic-nic ! 
a  small  truce !  —  since  they  denied  her  that,  rather  than  let 
them  triumph  by  seeing  her  wretched,  she  took  into  her 
bosom  the  joy  of  demons.  She  lured  Mr.  George  Uploft 
away  from  Miss  Carrington,  and  spoke  to  him  strange  hints 
of  matrimonial  disappointments,  looking  from  time  to  time 
at  that  apprehensive  lady,  doating  on  her  terrors.  And  Mr. 
George  seconded  her  by  his  clouded  face,  for  he  was 
ashamed  not  to  show  that  he  did  not  know  Louisa  Harring- 
ton in  the  Countess  de  Saldar,  and  had  not  the  courage  to 
declare  that  he  did.  The  Countess  spoke  familiarly,  but 
without  any  hint  of  an  ancient  acquaintance  between  them. 

"  What  a  post  her  husband's  got ! "  thought  Mr.  George, 
not  envying  the  Count.  He  was  wrong :  she  was  an  admi- 
rable ally.  All  over  the  field  the  Countess  went,  watching 
for  her  mother,  praying  that  if  she  did  come.  Providence 
might  prevent  her  from  coming  while  they  were  at  dinner. 
How  clearly  Mrs.  Shorne  and  Mrs.  Melville  saw  her  vul- 
garity now !  By  the  new  light  of  knowledge,  how  certain 
they  were  that  they  had  seen  her  ungentle  training  in  a 
dozen  little  instances. 

"  She  is  not  well-bred,  cela  se  voit,"  said  Lady  Jocelyn. 

"  Bred !  it's  the  stage !  How  could  such  a  person  be 
bred  ?  "  said  Mrs.  Shorne. 

Accept  in  the  Countess  the  heroine  who  is  combating 
class-prejudices,  and  surely  she  is  pre-eminently  noteworthy. 
True,  she  fights  only  for  her  family,  and  is  virtually  the 
champion  of  the  opposing  institution  misplaced.     That  does 


THE  BATTLE   OP  THE  BULL-DOGS  325 

not  matter :  tlie  Fates  may  have  done  it  purposely :  by  con- 
quering she  establishes  a  principle.  A  Duke  adores  her 
sister,  the  daughter  of  the  house  her  brother,  and  for  her- 
self she  has  many  protestations  in  honour  of  her  charms : 
nor  are  they  empty  ones.  She  can  confound  Mrs.  Melville, 
if  she  pleases  to,  by  exposing  an  adorer  to  lose  a  friend. 
Issuing  out  of  Tailordom,  she,  a  Countess,  has  done  all 
this ;  and  it  were  enough  to  make  her  glow,  did  not  little 
evils,  and  angers,  and  spites,  and  alarms  so  frightfully 
beset  her. 

The  sun  of  the  pic-nic  system  is  dinner.  Hence  philoso- 
phers may  deduce  that  the  pic-nic  is  a  British  invention. 
There  is  no  doubt  that  we  do  not  shine  at  the  pic-nic  until 
we  reflect  the  face  of  dinner.  To  this,  then,  all  who  were 
not  lovers  began  seriously  to  look  forward,  and  the  advance 
of  an  excellent  county  band,  specially  hired  to  play  during 
the  entertainment,  gave  many  of  the  guests  quite  a  new 
taste  for  sweet  music;  and  indeed  we  all  enjoy  a  thing 
infinitely  more  when  we  see  its  meaning. 

About  this  time  Evan  entered  the  lower  park-gates  with 
Andrew.  The  first  object  he  encountered  was  John  Kaikes 
in  a  state  of  great  depression.     He  explained  his  case : 

"  Just  look  at  my  frill !  Now,  upon  my  honour,  you 
know,  I'm  good-tempered;  I  pass  their  bucolic  habits,  but 
this  is  beyond  bearing.  I  was  near  the  palings  there,  and  a 
fellow  calls  out,  '  Hi !  will  you  help  the  lady  over  ? '  Hol- 
loa !  thinks  I,  an  adventure !  However,  I  advised  him  to 
take  her  round  to  the  gates.  The  beast  burst  out  laughing. 
*  Now,  then,'  says  he,  and  I  heard  a  scrambling  at  the  pales, 
and  up  came  the  head  of  a  dog.  '  Oh !  the  dog  first,'  says 
I.  *  Catch  by  the  ears,'  says  he.  I  did  so.  '  Pull,'  says 
he.  '  'Gad,  pull  indeed !  The  beast  gave  a  spring  and  came 
slap  on  my  chest,  with  his  dirty  wet  muzzle  in  my  neck  !  I 
felt  instantly  it  was  the  death  of  my  frill,  but  gallant  as 
you  know  me,  I  still  asked  for  the  lady.  'If  you  will 
please,  or  as  it  meet  your  favour,  to  extend  your  hand  to 
me ! '  I  confess  I  did  think  it  rather  odd,  the  idea  of  a  lady 
coming  in  that  way  over  the  palings !  but  my  curst  love  of 
adventure  always  blinds  me.  It  always  misleads  my  better 
sense,  Harrington.  Well,  instead  of  a  lady,  I  see  a  fellow 
—  he  may  have  been  a  lineal   descendant  of  Cedric  the 


326  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

Saxon.  'Where's  the  lady?'  says  I.  'Lady?'  says  he, 
and  stares,  and  then  laughs :  *  Lady !  why,'  he  jumps  over, 
and  points  at  his  beast  of  a  dog,  '  don't  you  know  a  bitdi 
when  you  see  one  ? '  I  was  in  the  most  ferocious  rage !  If 
he  hadn't  been  a  big  burly  bully,  down  he'd  have  gone. 
*  Why  didn't  you  say  what  it  was  ?  '  I  roared.  *  Why,'  says 
he,  'the  word  isn't  considered  polite!'  I  gave  him  a  cut 
there.  I  said,  'I  rejoice  to  be  positively  assured  that  you 
uphold  the  laws  and  forms  of  civilization,  sir.'  My  belief 
is  he  didn't  feel  it." 

"  The  thrust  sinned  in  its  shrewdness,"  remarked  Evan, 
ending  a  laugh. 

"Hem!"  went  Mr.  Eaikes,  more  contentedly:  "after 
all,  what  aj-e  appearances  to  the  man  of  wit  and  intellect  ? 
Dress,  and  women  will  approve  you :  but  I  assure  you  they 
much  prefer  the  man  of  wit  in  his  slouched  hat  and  stock- 
ings down.  I  was  introduced  to  the  Duke  this  morning. 
It  is  a  curious  thing  that  the  seduction  of  a  Duchess  has 
always  been  one  of  my  dreams." 

At  this  Andrew  Cogglesby  fell  into  a  fit  of  laughter. 

"Your  servant,"  said  Mr.  Raikes,  turning  to  him.  And 
then  he  muttered  "Extraordinary  likeness!  Good  heavens! 
Powers ! " 

From  a  state  of  depression,  Mr.  Raikes  changed  into  one 
of  bewilderment.  Evan  paid  no  attention  to  him,  and  an- 
swered none  of  his  hasty  undertoned  questions.  Just  then, 
as  they  were  on  the  skirts  of  the  company,  the  band  struck 
up  a  lively  tune,  and  quite  unconsciously,  the  legs  of  Raikes, 
affected,  it  may  be,  by  supernatural  reminiscences,  loosely 
hornpiped.  It  was  but  a  moment:  he  remembered  himself 
the  next :  but  in  that  fatal  moment  eyes  were  on  him.  He 
never  recovered  his  dignity  in  Beckley  Court:  he  was 
fatally  mercurial. 

"What  is  the  joke  against  this  poor  fellow?"  asked 
Evan  of  Andrew. 

"  Never  mind.  Van.  You'll  roar.  Old  Tom  again.  We'll 
see  by-and-by,  after  the  champagne.  He — this  young 
Raikes  —  ha!  ha!  —  but  I  can't  tell  you."  And  Andrew 
went  away  to  Drummond,  to  whom  he  was  more  communi- 
cative. Then  he  went  to  Melville,  and  one  or  two  others, 
and  the  eyes  of  many  became  concentrated  on  Raikes,  and 


THE  BATTLE   OF   THE   BULL-DOGS  327 

it  Avas  observed  as  a  singular  sign  that  he  was  constantly 
facing  about,  and  flushing  the  fiercest  red.  Once  he  made 
an  effort  to  get  hold  of  Evan's  arm  and  drag  him  away,  as 
one  who  had  an  urgent  confession  to  be  delivered  of,  but 
Evan  was  talking  to  Lady  Jocelyn,  and  other  ladies,  and 
quietly  disengaged  his  arm  without  even  turning  to  notice 
the  face  of  his  friend.  Then  the  dinner  was  announced, 
and  men  saw  the  dinner.  The  Countess  went  to  shake  her 
brother's  hand,  and  with  a  very  gratulatory  visage,  said 
through  her  half-shut  teeth:  "If  Mama  appears,  rise  up 
and  go  away  with  her,  before  she  has  time  to  speak  a  word." 
An  instant  after  Evan  found  himself  seated  between  Mrs. 
Evremonde  and  one  of  the  Conley  girls.  The  dinner  had 
commenced.  The  first  half  of  the  Battle  of  the  Bull-dogs 
was  as  peaceful  as  any  ordinary  pic-nic,  and  promised  to 
the  general  company  as  calm  a  conclusion. 


CHAPTER  XXXI 

THE  BATTLE   OF   THE   BULL-DOGS  —  PART   II 

If  it  be  a  distinct  point  of  wisdom  to  hug  the  hour  that 
is,  then  does  dinner  amount  to  a  highly  intellectual  invita- 
tion to  man,  for  it  furnishes  the  occasion ;  and  Britons  are 
the  wisest  of  their  race,  for  more  than  all  others  they  take 
advantage  of  it.  In  this  Nature  is  undoubtedly  our  guide, 
seeing  that  he  who,  while  feasting  his  body  allows  to  his 
soul  a  thought  for  the  morrow,  is  in  his  digestion  curst, 
and  becomes  a  house  of  evil  humours.  Now,  though  the 
epicure  may  complain  of  the  cold  meats,  a  dazzling  table, 
a  buzzing  company,  blue  sky,  and  a  band  of  music  are  in- 
centives to  the  forgetfulness  of  troubles  past  and  imminent, 
and  produce  a  concentration  of  the  faculties.  They  may 
not  exactly  prove  that  peace  is  established  between  yourself 
and  those  who  object  to  your  carving  of  the  world,  but  they 
testify  to  an  armistice. 

Aided  by  these  observations,  you  will  understand  how  it 
was  that  the  Countess  de  Saldar,  afflicted  and  menaced,  was 


328  EVAN  HAKEINGTON 

inspired,  on  taking  her  seat,  to  give  so  graceful  and  stately  a 
sweep  to  her  dress  that  she  was  enabled  to  conceive  woman 
and  man  alike  to  be  secretly  overcome  by  it.  You  will  not 
refuse  to  credit  the  fact  that  Mr.  Raikes  threw  care  to  the 
dogs,  heavy  as  was  that  mysterious  lump  suddenly  precipi- 
tated on  his  bosom ;  and  you  will  think  it  not  impossible 
that  even  the  springers  of  the  mine  about  to  explode  should 
lose  their  subterranean  countenances.  A  generous  abandon- 
ment to  one  idea  prevailed.  As  for  Evan,  the  first  glass  of 
champagne  rushed  into  reckless  nuptials  with  the  music  in 
his  head,  bringing  Rose,  warm  almost  as  life,  on  his  heart. 
Sublime  are  the  visions  of  lovers !  He  knew  he  must  leave 
her  on  the  morrow;  he  feared  he  might  never  behold  her 
again;  and  yet  he  tasted  bliss,  for  it  seemed  within  the 
contemplation  of  the  Gods  that  he  should  dance  with  his 
darling  before  dark  —  haply  waltz  with  her !  Oh,  heaven ! 
he  shuts  his  eyes,  blinded.  The  band  wheels  off  meltingly 
in  a  tune  all  cadences,  and  twirls,  and  risings  and  sinkings, 
and  passionate  outbursts  trippingly  consoled.  Ah!  how 
sweet  to  waltz  through  life  with  the  right  partner.  And 
what  a  singular  thing  it  is  to  look  back  on  the  day  when  we 
thought  something  like  it!  Never  mind:  there  may  be 
spheres  where  it  is  so  managed  —  doubtless  the  planets 
have  their  Han  well  and  Bedlam. 

I  confess  that  the  hand  here  writing  is  not  insensible  to 
the  effects  of  that  first  glass  of  champagne.  The  poetry  of 
our  Countess's  achievements  waxes  rich  in  manifold  colours : 
I  see  her  by  the  light  of  her  own  pleas  to  Providence.  I 
doubt  almost  if  the  hand  be  mine  which  dared  to  make  a 
hero  play  second  fiddle,  and  to  his  beloved.  I  have  placed 
a  bushel  over  his  light,  certainly.  Poor  boy !  it  was  enough 
that  he  should  have  tailordom  on  his  shoulders :  I  ought  to 
have  allowed  him  to  conquer  Nature,  and  so  come  out  of 
his  eclipse.  This  shall  be  said  of  him:  that  he  can  play 
second  fiddle  without  looking  foolish,  which,  for  my  part, 
I  call  a  greater  triumph  than  if  he  were  performing  the 
heroics  we  are  more  accustomed  to.  He  has  steady  eyes, 
can  gaze  at  the  right  level  into  the  eyes  of  others,  and  com- 
mands a  tongue  which  is  neither  struck  dumb  nor  set  in  a 
flutter  by  any  startling  question.  The  best  instances  to  be 
given  that  he  does  not  lack  merit  are  that  the  Jocelyns, 


THE  BATTLE  OF   THE  BULL-DOGS  329 

whom  lie  has  offended  by  his  birth,  cannot  change  their 
treatment  of  him,  and  that  the  hostile  women,  whatever 
they  may  say,  do  not  think  Rose  utterly  insane.  At  any 
rate.  Rose  is  satisfied,  and  her  self-love  makes  her  a  keen 
critic.  The  moment  Evan  appeared,  the  sickness  produced 
in  her  by  the  Countess  passed,  and  she  was  ready  to  brave 
her  situation.  With  no  mock  humility  she  permitted  Mrs. 
Shorne  to  place  her  in  a  seat  where  glances  could  not  be  in- 
terchanged. She  was  quite  composed,  calmly  prepared  for 
conversation  with  any  one.  Indeed,  her  behaviour  since  the 
hour  of  general  explanation  had  been  so  perfectly  well-con- 
tained, that  Mrs.  Melville  said  to  Lady  Jocelyn : 

"  I  am  only  thinking  of  the  damage  to  her.  It  will  pass 
over  —  this  fancy.  You  can  see  she  is  not  serious.  It  is 
mere  spirit  of  opposition.  She  eats  and  drinks  just  like 
other  girls.  You  can  see  that  the  fancy  has  not  taken  such 
very  strong  hold  of  her." 

"  I  can't  agree  with  you,"  replied  her  ladyship.  "  I  would 
rather  have  her  sit  and  sigh  by  the  hour,  and  loathe  roast 
beef.     That  would  look  nearer  a  cure." 

"  She  has  the  notions  of  a  silly  country  girl,"  said  Mrs. 
Shorne. 

"  Exactly,"  Lady  Jocelyn  replied,  "  A  season  in  London 
will  give  her  balance." 

So  the  guests  were  tolerably  happy,  or  at  least,  with  scarce 
an  exception,  open  to  the  influences  of  champagne  and  music. 
Perhaps  Juliana  was  the  wretchedest  creature  present.  She 
was  about  to  smite  on  both  cheeks  him  she  loved,  as  well  as 
the  woman  she  despised  and  had  been  foiled  by.  Still  she 
had  the  consolation  that  Rose,  seeing  the  vulgar  mother, 
might  turn  from  Evan:  a  poor  distant  hope,  meagre  and 
shapeless  like  herself.  Her  most  anxious  thoughts  con- 
cerned the  means  of  getting  money  to  lock  up  Harry's 
tongue.  She  could  bear  to  meet  the  Countess's  wrath,  but 
not  Evan's  offended  look.     Hark  to  that  Countess ! 

"  Why  do  you  denominate  this  a  pic-nic.  Lady  Jocelyn  ? 
It  is  in  verity  a  fete ! " 

"I  suppose  we  ought  to  lie  down  k  la  Grecque  to  come 
within  the  terra,"  was  the  reply.  "  On  the  whole,  I  prefer 
plain  English  for  such  matters." 

"  But  this  is  assuredly  too  sumptuous  for  a  pic-nic,  Lady 


330  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Jocelyn.  From  what  I  can  remember,  pic-nic  implies  con- 
tribution from  all  the  guests.  It  is  true  I  left  England  a 
child !  " 

Mr.  George  Uploft  could  not  withhold  a  sharp  grimace. 
The  Countess  had  throttled  the  inward  monitor  that  tells  us 
when  we  are  lying,  so  grievously  had  she  practised  the  habit 
in  the  service  of  her  family. 

"  Yes,"  said  Mrs.  Melville,  "  I  have  heard  of  that  fashion, 
and  very  stupid  it  is." 

*'  Extremely  vulgar,"  murmured  Miss  Carrington. 

"Possibly,"  Lady  Jocelyn  observed;  "but  good  fan.  I 
have  been  to  pic-nics,  in  my  day.  I  invariably  took  cold 
pie  and  claret.  I  clashed  with  half-a-dozen,  but  all  the 
harm  we  did  was  to  upset  the  dictum  that  there  can  be  too 
much  of  a  good  thing.  I  know  for  certain  that  the  bottles 
were  left  empty." 

"  And  this  woman,"  thought  the  Countess,  "  this  woman, 
with  a  soul  so  essentially  vulgar,  claims  rank  above  me ! " 
The  reflection  generated  contempt  of  English  society,  in  the 
first  place,  and  then  a  passionate  desire  for  self-assertion. 

She  was  startled  by  a  direct  attack  which  aroused  her 
momentarily  lulled  energies. 

A  lady,  quite  a  stranger,  a  dry  simpering  lady,  caught  the 
Countess's  benevolent  passing  gaze,  and  leaning  forward, 
said:  "I  hope  her  ladyship  bears  her  affliction  as  well  as 
can  be  expected  ?  " 

In  military  parlance,  the  Countess  was  taken  in  flank. 
Another  would  have  asked  —  What  ladyship  ?  To  whom  do 
you  allude,  may  I  beg  to  inquire  ?  The  Countess  knew 
better.  Rapid  as  light  it  shot  through  her  that  the  relict 
of  Sir  Abraham  was  meant,  and  this  she  divined  because 
she  was  aware  that  devilish  malignity  was  watching  to 
trip  her. 

A  little  conversation  happening  to  buzz  at  the  instant,  the 
Countess  merely  turned  her  chin  to  an  angle,  agitated  her 
brows  very  gently,  and  crowned  the  performance  with  a 
mournful  smile.  All  that  a  woman  must  feel  at  the  demise 
of  so  precious  a  thing  as  a  husband,  was  therein  eloquently 
expressed:  and  at  the  same  time,  if  explanations  ensued, 
there  were  numerous  ladyships  in  the  world,  whom  the  Count- 
ess did  not  mind  afflicting,  should  she  be  hard  pressed. 


THE  BATTLE   OF   THE   BULL-DOGS  331 

"  I  knew  him  so  well ! "  resumed  the  horrid  woman, 
addressing  anybody.  "It  was  so  sad!  so  unexpected!  but 
he  was  so  subject  to  affection  of  the  throat.  And  I  was  so 
sorry  I  could  not  get  down  to  him  in  time.  I  had  not  seen 
him  since  his  marriage,  when  I  was  a  girl !  —  and  to  meet  one 
of  his  children !  —  But,  my  dear,  in  quinsey,  I  have  heard 
that  there  is  nothing  on  earth  like  a  good  hearty  laugh," 

Mr.  Raikes  hearing  this,  sucked  down  the  flavour  of  a 
glass  of  champagne,  and  with  a  look  of  fierce  jollity,  inter- 
posed, as  if  specially  charged  by  Providence  to  make  plain 
to  the  persecuted  Countess  his  mission  and  business  there : 
"  Then  our  vocation  is  at  last  revealed  to  us !  Quinsey- 
doctor !  I  remember  when  a  boy,  wandering  over  the  pater- 
nal mansion,  and  envying  the  life  of  a  tinker,  which  my 
mother  did  not  think  a  good  omen  in  me.  But  the  traps  of 
a  Quinsey-doctor  are  even  lighter.  Say  twenty  good  jokes, 
and  two  or  three  of  a  practical  kind.     A  man  most  enviable! " 

"It  appears,"  he  remarked  aloud  to  one  of  the  Conley 
girls,  "that  quinsey  is  needed  before  a  joke  is  properly 
appreciated." 

"  I  like  fun,"  said  she,  but  had  not  apparently  discovered 
it. 

What  did  that  odious  woman  mean  by  perpetually  talk- 
ing about  Sir  Abraham  ?  The  Countess  intercepted  a  glance 
between  her  and  the  hated  Juliana.  She  felt  it  was  a 
malignant  conspiracy:  still  the  vacuous  vulgar  air  of  the 
woman  told  her  that  most  probably  she  was  but  an  instru- 
ment, not  a  confederate,  and  was  only  trying  to  push  her- 
self into  acquaintance  with  the  great :  a  proceeding  scorned 
and  abominated  by  the  Countess,  who  longed  to  punish  her 
for  her  insolent  presumption.  The  bitterness  of  her  situa- 
tion stung  her  tenfold  when  she  considered  that  she  dared 
not. 

Meantime  the  champagne  became  as  regular  in  its  flow 
as  the  Bull-dogs,  and  the  monotonous  bass  of  these  latter 
sounded  through  the  music,  like  life  behind  the  murmur  of 
pleas^ire,  if  you  will.  The  Countess  had  a  not  unfeminine 
weakness  for  champagne,  and  old  Mr.  Bonner's  cellar  was 
well  and  choicely  stocked.  But  was  this  enjoyment  to  the 
Countess  ?  —  this  dreary  station  in  the  background !  "  May 
I  emerge  ?  "  she  as  much  as  implored  Providence.     The 


332  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

petition  was  infinitely  tender.  She  thought  she  might,  or 
it  may  be  that  nature  was  strong,  and  she  could  not  restrain 
herself. 

Taking  wine  with  Sir  John,  she  said : 

"  This  bowing !  Do  you  know  how  amusing  it  is  deemed 
by  us  Portuguese  ?  Why  not  embrace  ?  as  the  dear  Queen 
used  to  say  to  me." 

"  I  am  decidedly  of  Her  Majesty's  opinion,"  observed  Sir 
John,  with  emphasis,  and  the  Countess  drew  back  into  a 
mingled  laugh  and  blush. 

Her  fiendish  persecutor  gave  two  or  three  nods.  "  And 
you  know  the  Queen  !  "  she  said. 

She  had  to  repeat  the  remark :  whereupon  .the  Countess 
murmured,  "  Intimately." 

*'  Ah,  we  have  lost  a  staunch  old  Tory  in  Sir  Abraham," 
said  the  lady,  performing  lamentation. 

What  did  it  mean  ?  Could  design  lodge  in  that  empty- 
looking  head  with  its  crisp  curls,  button  nose,  and  diminish- 
ing simper  ?  Was  this  pic-nic  to  be  made  as  terrible  to  the 
Countess  by  her  putative  father  as  the  dinner  had  been  by 
the  great  Mel  ?  The  deep,  hard,  level  look  of  Juliana  met 
the  Countess's  smile  from  time  to  time,  and  like  flimsy  light 
horse  before  a  solid  array  of  infantry,  the  Countess  fell 
back,  only  to  be  worried  afresh  by  her  perfectly  unwitting 
tormentor. 

"  His  last  days  ? —  without  pain  ?  Oh,  I  hope  so ! "  came 
after  a  lapse  of  general  talk. 

"Aren't  we  getting  a  little  funereal,  Mrs.  Perkins?"  Lady 
Jocelyn  asked,  and  then  rallied  her  neighbours. 

Miss  Carrington  looked  at  her  vexedly,  for  the  fiendish 
Perkins  was  checked,  and  the  Countess  in  alarm,  about  to 
commit  herself,  was  a  pleasant  sight  to  Miss  Carrington. 

"  The  worst  of  these  indiscriminate  meetings  is  that  there 
is  no  conversation,"  whispered  the  Countess,  thanking  Provi- 
dence for  the  relief. 

Just  then  she  saw  Juliana  bend  her  brows  at  another  per- 
son. This  was  George  Uploft,  who  shook  his  head,  and  indi- 
cated a  shrewd-eyed,  thin,  middle-aged  man,  of  a  lawyer-like 
cast ;  and  then  Juliana  nodded,  and  George  Uploft  touched 
his  arm,  and  glanced  hurriedly  behind  for  champagne.  The 
Countess's  eyes  dwelt  on  the  timid  young  squire  most  afifec- 


THE  BATTLE  OP   THE  BtTLL-DOGS  333 

tionately.  You  never  saw  a  fortress  more  unprepared  for 
dread  assault. 

"  Hem !  "  was  heard,  terrific.  But  the  proper  pause  had 
evidently  not  yet  come,  and  now  to  prevent  it  the  Countess 
strained  her  energies  and  tasked  her  genius  intensely.  Have 
you  an  idea  of  the  difficulty  of  keeping  up  the  ball  among  a 
host  of  ill-assorted,  stupid  country  people,  who  have  no  open 
topics,  and  can  talk  of  nothing  continuously  but  scandal  of 
their  neighbours,  and  who,  moreover,  feel  they  are  not  up  to 
the  people  they  are  mixing  with  ?  Darting  upon  Seymour 
Jocelyn,  the  Countess  asked  touchingly  for  news  of  the 
partridges.  It  was  like  the  unlocking  of  a  machine.  Sey- 
mour was  not  blythe  in  his  reply,  but  he  was  loud  and 
forcible;  and  when  he  came  to  the  statistics  —  oh,  then  you 
would  have  admired  the  Countess  !  —  for  comparisons  ensued, 
braces  were  enumerated,  numbers  given  were  contested,  and 
the  shooting  of  this  one  jeered  at,  and  another's  sure  mark 
respectfully  admitted.  And  how  lay  the  coveys?  And 
what  about  the  damage  done  by  last  winter's  floods  ?  And 
was  there  good  hope  of  the  pheasants  ?  Outside  this  clatter 
the  Countess  hovered.  Twice  the  awful "  Hem ! "  was  heard. 
She  fought  on.  She  kept  them  at  it.  If  it  flagged  she 
wished  to  know  this  or  that,  and  finally  thought  that,  really, 
she  should  like  herself  to  try  one  shot.  The  women  had 
previously  been  left  behind.  This  brought  in  the  women. 
Lady  Jocelyn  proposed  a  female  expedition  for  the  morrow. 

"I  believe  I  used  to  be  something  of  a  shot,  formerly," 
she  said. 

"  You  peppered  old  Tom  once,  my  lady,"  remarked  Andrew, 
and  her  ladyship  laughed,  and  that  foolish  Andrew  told  the 
story,  and  the  Countess,  to  revive  her  subject  had  to  say : 
"May  I  be  enrolled  to  shoot?"  though  she  detested  and 
shrank  from  fire-arms. 

"  Here  are  two ! "  said  the  hearty  presiding  dame.  "  La- 
dies, apply  immediately  to  have  your  names  put  down." 

The  possibility  of  an  expedition  of  ladies  now  struck 
Seymour  vividly,  and  said  he :  "  I'll  be  secretary ; "  and 
began  applying  to  the  ladies  for  permission  to  put  down 
their  names.  Many  declined,  with  brevity,  muttering,  either 
aloud  or  to  themselves,  "  unwomanly ; "  varied  by  "  unlady- 
like : "    some  confessed  cowardice :    some  a  horror  of  the 


334  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

noise  close  to  their  ears ;  and  there  was  the  plea  of  nerves. 
But  the  names  of  half-a-dozen  ladies  were  collected,  and  then 
followed  much  laughter,  and  musical  hubbub,  and  delicate 
banter.  So  the  ladies  and  gentlemen  fell  one  and  all  into 
the  partridge  pit  dug  for  them  by  the  Countess :  and  that 
horrible  "  Hem ! "  equal  in  force  and  terror  to  the  roar  of 
artillery  preceding  the  charge  of  ten  thousand  dragoons, 
was  silenced  —  the  pit  appeared  impassable.  Did  the 
Countess  crow  over  her  advantage  ?  Mark  her :  the  lady's 
face  is  entirely  given  up  to  partridges.  "English  sports 
are  so  much  envied  abroad,"  she  says :  but  what  she  dreads 
is  a  reflection,  for  that  leads  off  from  the  point.  A  portion 
of  her  mind  she  keeps  to  combat  them  in  Lady  Jocelyn  and 
others  who  have  the  tendency :  the  rest  she  divides  between 
internal  prayers  for  succour,  and  casting  about  for  another 
popular  subject  to  follow  partridges.  Now,  mere  talent,  as 
critics  say  when  they  are  lighting  candles  round  a  genius, 
mere  talent  would  have  hit  upon  pheasants  as  the  natural 
sequitur,  and  then  diverged  to  sports  —  a  great  theme,  for  it 
ensures  a  chorus  of  sneers  at  foreigners,  and  so  on  probably 
to  a  discussion  of  birds  and  beasts  best  adapted  to  enrapture 
the  palate  of  man.  Stories  may  succeed,  but  they  are  doubt- 
ful, and  not  to  be  trusted,  coming  after  cookery.  After  an 
exciting  subject  which  has  made  the  general  tongue  to  wag, 
and  just  enough  heated  the  brain  to  cause  it  to  cry  out  for 
spiced  food  —  then  start  your  story :  taking  care  that  it  be 
mild ;  for  one  too  marvellous  stops  the  tide,  the  sense  of 
climax  being  strongly  implanted  in  all  bosoms.  So  the 
Countess  told  an  anecdote  —  one  of  Mel's.  Mr.  George 
Uploft  was  quite  familiar  with  it,  and  knew  of  one  pas- 
sage that  would  have  abashed  him  to  relate  "  before  ladies." 
The  sylph-like  ease  with  which  the  Countess  floated  over 
this  foul  abysm  was  miraculous.  Mr.  George  screwed  his 
eye-lids  queerly,  and  closed  his  jaws  with  a  report,  com- 
pletely beaten.  The  anecdote  was  of  the  character  of  an 
apologue,  and  pertained  to  game.  This  was,  as  it  happened, 
a  misfortune;  for  Mr.  Raikes  had  felt  himself  left  behind  by 
the  subject ;  and  the  stuff  that  was  in  this  young  man  being 
naturally  ebullient,  he  lay  by  to  trip  it,  and  take  a  lead. 
His  remarks  brought  on  him  a  shrewd  cut  from  the  Count- 
ess, which  made  matters  worse ;  for  a  pun  may  also  breed 


THE  BATTLE  OF   THE  BULL-DOGS  335 

puns,  as  doth  an  anecdote.  The  Countess's  stroke  was  so 
neat  and  perfect  that  it  was  something  for  the  gentlemen  to 
think  over ;  and  to  punish  her  for  giving  way  to  her  clever- 
ness and  to  petty  vexation,  "Hem!"  sounded  once  more, 
and  then :  "  May  I  ask  you  if  the  present  Baronet  is  in 
England  ?  " 

Now  Lady  Jocelyn  perceived  that  some  attack  was 
directed  against  her  guest.  She  allowed  the  Countess  to 
answer : 

"  The  eldest  was  drowned  in  the  Lisbon  waters :  " 

And  then  said :  "  But  who  is  it  that  persists  in  serving 
up  the  funeral  baked  meats  to  us?" 

Mrs.  Shorne  spoke  for  her  neighbour:  "Mr.  Farnley's 
cousin  was  the  steward  of  Sir  Abraham  Harrington's 
estates." 

The  Countess  held  up  her  head  boldly.  There  is  a  cour- 
ageous exaltation  of  the  nerves  known  to  heroes  and  great 
Generals  in  action  when  they  feel  sure  that  resources  within 
themselves  will  spring  up  to  the  emergency,  and  that  over 
simple  mortals  success  is  positive. 

"I  had  a  great  respect  for  Sir  Abraham,"  Mr.  Farnley 
explained,  "very  great.  I  heard  that  this  lady"  (bowing 
to  the  Countess)  "was  his  daughter." 

Lady  Jocelyn's  face  wore  an  angry  look,  and  Mrs.  Shorne 
gave  her  the  shade  of  a  shrug  and  an  expression  implying, 
"/didn't!" 

Evan  was  talking  to  Miss  Jenny  Graine  at  the  moment 
rather  earnestly.  With  a  rapid  glance  at  him,  to  see  that 
his  ears  were  closed,  the  Countess  breathed: 

"Not  the  elder  branch !— Cadet ! " 

The  sort  of  noisy  silence  produced  by  half-a-dozen  people 
respirating  deeply  and  moving  in  their  seats  was  heard. 
The  Countess  watched  Mr.  Farnley's  mystified  look,  and 
whispered  to  Sir  John:  "Est-ce  qu'il  comprenne  le  Fran- 
Qais,  lui?" 

It  was  the  final  feather-like  touch  to  her  triumph.  She 
saw  safety  and  a  clear  escape,  and  much  joyful  gain,  and 
the  pleasure  of  relating  her  sufferings  in  days  to  come. 
This  vista  was  before  her  when,  harsh  as  an  execution  bell, 
telling  her  that  she  had  vanquished  man,  but  that  Provi- 
dence opposed  her,  " Mrs.  Melchisedec  Harrington  I"  was 
announced  to  Lady  Jocelvn. 


336  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Perfect  stillness  reigned  immediately,  as  if  the  pic-nic 
had  heard  its  doom. 

"Oh!  I  will  go  to  her,"  said  her  ladyship,  whose  first 
thought  was  to  spare  the  family.  "Andrew,  come  and 
give  me  your  arm." 

But  when  she  rose  Mrs.  Mel  was  no  more  than  the  length 
of  an  arm  from  her  elbow. 

In  the  midst  of  the  horrible  anguish  she  was  enduring, 
the  Countess  could  not  help  criticizing  her  mother's  curtsey 
to  Lady  Jocelyn.  Fine,  but  a  shade  too  humble.  Still  it 
was  fine ;  all  might  not  yet  be  lost. 

"Mama!  "  she  softly  exclaimed,  and  thanked  heaven  that 
she  had  not  denied  her  parent. 

Mrs.  Mel  did  not  notice  her  or  any  of  her  children. 
There  was  in  her  bosom  a  terrible  determination  to  cast  a 
devil  out  of  the  one  she  best  loved.  For  this  purpose,  heed- 
less of  all  pain  to  be  given,  or  of  impropriety,  she  had  come 
to  speak  publicly,  and  disgrace  and  humiliate,  that  sh3  might 
save  him  from  the  devils  that  had  ruined  his  father. 

"My  lady,"  said  the  terrible  woman,  thanking  her  in 
reply  to  an  invitation  that  she  should  be  seated,  "I  have 
come  for  my  son.  I  hear  he  has  been  playing  the  lord  in 
your  house,  my  lady.  I  humbly  thank  your  ladyship  for 
your  kindness  to  him,  but  he  is  nothing  more  than  a  tailor's 
son,  and  is  bound  a  tailor  himself  that  his  father  may  be 
called  an  honest  man.     I  am  come  to  take  him  away." 

Mrs.  Mel  seemed  to  speak  without  much  effort,  though 
the  pale  flush  of  her  cheeks  showed  that  she  felt  what  she 
was  doing.  Juliana  was  pale  as  death,  watching  Rose. 
Intensely  bright  with  the  gem-like  light  of  her  gallant 
spirit,  Rose's  eyes  fixed  on  Evan.  He  met  them.  The 
words  of  Ruth  passed  through  his  heart.  But  the  Countess, 
who  had  given  Rose  to  Evan,  and  the  Duke  to  Caroline, 
where  was  her  supporter?  The  Duke  was  entertaining 
Caroline  with  no  less  dexterity,  and  Rose's  eyes  said  to 
Evan :  "  Feel  no  shame  that  I  do  not  feel ! "  but  the 
Countess  stood  alone.  It  is  ever  thus  with  genius!  to 
quote  the  numerous  illustrious  authors  who  have  written 
of  it. 

What  mattered  it  now  that  in  the  dead  hush  Lady  Jocelyn 
should  assure  her  mother  that  she  had  been  misinformed, 


THE  BATTLE   OF   THE   BULL-DOGS  337 

and  that  Mrs.  Mel  was  presently  quieted,  and  made  to  sit 
with  others  before  the  fruits  and  wines?  All  eyes  were 
hateful  —  the  very  thought  of  Providence  confused  her 
brain.  Almost  reduced  to  imbecility,  the  Countess  imag- 
ined, as  a  reality,  that  Sir  Abraham  had  borne  with  her 
till  her  public  announcement  of  relationship,  and  that  then 
the  outraged  ghost  would  no  longer  be  restrained,  and  had 
struck  this  blow. 

The  crushed  pic-nic  tried  to  get  a  little  air,  and  made 
attempts  at  conversation.  Mrs.  Mel  sat  upon  the  company 
with  the  weight  of  all  tailordom. 

And  now  a  messenger  came  for  Harry.  Everybody  was 
so  zealously  employed  in  the  struggle  to  appear  comfortable 
under  Mrs.  Mel,  that  his  departure  was  hardly  observed. 
The  general  feeling  for  Evan  and  his  sisters,  by  their  supe- 
riors in  rank,  was  one  of  kindly  pity.  Laxley,  however, 
did  not  behave  well.  He  put  up  his  glass  and  scrutinized 
Mrs.  Mel,  and  then  examined  Evan,  and  Rose  thought  that 
in  his  interchange  of  glances  with  any  one  there  was  a  lurk- 
ing revival  of  the  scene  gone  by.  She  signalled  with  her 
eyebrows  for  Drummond  to  correct  him,  but  Drummond 
had  another  occupation.  Andrew  made  the  diversion.  He 
whispered  to  his  neighbour,  and  the  whisper  went  round, 
and  the  laugh ;  and  Mr.  Eaikes  grew  extremely  uneasy  in 
his  seat,  and  betrayed  an  extraordinary  alarm.  But  he 
also  was  soon  relieved.  A  messenger  had  come  from 
Harry  to  Mrs.  Evremonde,  bearing  a  slip  of  paper.  This 
the  lady  glanced  at,  and  handed  it  to  Drummond.  A 
straggling  pencil  had  traced  these  words: 

"Just  running  by  S.W.  gates  —  saw  the  Captain  coming 
in  —  couldn't  stop  to  stop  him  —  tremendous  hurry  —  im- 
portant.    Harry  J." 

Drummond  sent  the  paper  to  Lady  Jocelyn.  After  her 
perusal  of  it  a  scout  was  despatched  to  the  summit  of  Olym- 
pus, and  his  report  proclaimed  the  advance  in  the  direction  of 
the  Bull-dogs  of  a  smart  little  figure  of  a  man  in  white  hat 
and  white  trousers,  who  kept  flicking  his  legs  with  a  cane. 

Mrs.  Evremonde  rose  and  conferred  with  her  ladyship  an 
instant,  and  then  Drummond  took  her  arm  quietly,  and 
passed  round  Olympus  to  the  East,  and  Lady  Jocelyn  broke 
up  the  sitting. 


338  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Juliana  saw  Rose  go  up  to  Evan,  and  make  him  introduce 
her  to  his  mother.  She  turned  lividly  white,  and  went  to 
a  corner  of  the  park  by  herself,  and  cried  bitterly. 

Lady  Jocelyn,  Sir  Franks,  and  Sir  John  remained  by  the 
tables,  but  before  the  guests  were  out  of  ear-shot,  the  indi- 
vidual signalled  from  Olympus  presented  himself. 

"  There  are  times  when  one  can't  see  what  else  to  do  but 
to  lie,"  said  her  ladyship  to  Sir  Franks,  "and  when  we  do 
lie  the  only  way  is  to  lie  intrepidly." 

Turning  from  her  perplexed  husband,  she  exclaimed: 

"Ah!  Lawson?" 

Captain  Evremonde  lifted  his  hat,  declining  an  intimacy. 

"Where  is  my  wife,  madam?" 

"Have  you  just  come  from  the  Arctic  Regions?" 

"  I  have  come  for  my  wife,  madam !  " 

His  unsettled  grey  eyes  wandered  restlessly  on  Lady 
Jocelyn's  face.  The  Countess  standing  near  the  Duke, 
felt  some  pity  for  the  wife  of  that  cropped-headed,  tight- 
skinned  lunatic  at  large,  but  deeper  was  the  Countess's 
pity  for  Lady  Jocelyn,  in  thinking  of  the  account  she  would 
have  to  render  on  the  Day  of  Judgement,  when  she  heard 
her  ladyship  reply: 

"Evelyn  is  not  here." 

Captain  Evremonde  bowed  profoundly,  trailing  his  broad 
white  hat  along  the  sward. 

"Do  me  the  favour  to  read  this,  madam,"  he  said,  and 
handed  a  letter  to  her. 

Lady  Jocelyn  raised  her  brows  as  she  gathered  the  con- 
tents of  the  letter. 

"Ferdinand's  handwriting!"  she  exclaimed. 

"  I  accuse  no  one,  madam,  —  I  make  no  accusation.  I 
have  every  respect  for  you,  madam, — you  have  my  esteem. 
I  am  sorry  to  intrude,  madam,  an  intrusion  is  regretted. 
My  wife  runs  away  from  her  bed,  madam, —  and  I  have  the 
law,  madam, — the  law  is  with  the  Ijusband.  No  force!" 
He  lashed  his  cane  sharply  against  his  white  legs.  "  The 
law,  madam.  No  brute  force ! "  His  cane  made  a  furious 
whirl,  cracking  again  on  his  legs,  as  he  reiterated,  "The 
law ! " 

"Does  the  law  advise  you  to  strike  at  a  tangent  all  over 
the  country  in  search  for  her  ?  "  inquired  Lady  Jocelyn. 


THE  BATTLE   OF  THE  BULL-DOGS  339 

Captain  Evremonde  became  ten  times  more  voluble  and 
excited. 

Mrs.  Mel  was  heard  by  the  Countess  to  say :  "  Her  lady- 
ship does  not  know  how  to  treat  madme:a." 

Nor  did  Sir  Franks  and  Sir  John.  They  began  expostu- 
lating with  him.  ( 

"  A  madman  gets  madder  when  you  talk  reason  to  him," 
said  Mrs.  Mel. 

And  now  the  Countess  stepped  forward  to  Lady  Jocelyn, 
and  hoped  she  would  not  be  thought  impertinent  in  offering 
her  opinion  as  to  how  this  frantic  person  should  be  treated. 
The  case  indeed  looked  urgent.  Many  gentlemen  considered 
themselves  bound  to  approach  and  be  ready  in  case  of  need. 
Presently  the  Countess  passed  between  Sir  Franks  and  Sir 
John,  and  with  her  hand  put  up,  as  if- she  feared  the  furious 
cane,  said: 

"  You  will  not  strike  me  ?  " 

"  Strike  a  lady,  madam  ?  "  The  cane  and  hat  were  simul- 
taneously lowered. 

•'  Lady  Jocelyn  permits  me  to  fetch  for  you  a  gentleman 
of  the  law.     Or  will  you  accompany  me  to  him  ?  " 

In  a  moment,  Captain  Evremonde's  manners  were  subdued 
and  civilized,  and  in  perfectly  sane  speech  he  thanked  the 
Dountess  and  offered  her  his  arm.  The  Countess  smilingly 
waved  back  Sir  John,  who  motioned  to  attend  on  her,  and 
away  she  went  with  the  Captain,  with  all  the  glow  of  a 
woman  who  feels  that  she  is  heaping  coals  of  fire  on  the 
heads  of  her  enemies. 

Was  she  not  admired  now  ? 

"  Upon  my  honour,"  said  Lady  Jocelyn,  "  they  are  a  re- 
markable family,"  meaning  the  Harringtons. 

What  farther  she  thought  she  did  not  say,  but  she  was  a 
woman  who  looked  to  natural  gifts  more  than  the  gifts  of 
accidents ;  and  Evan's  chance  stood  high  with  her  then.  So 
the  battle  of  the  Bull-dogs  was  fought,  and  cruelly  as  the 
Countess  had  been  assailed  and  wounded,  she  gained  a  vic- 
tory ;  yea,  though  Demogorgon,  aided  by  the  vindictive  ghost 
of  Sir  Abraham,  took  tangible  shape  in  the  ranks  opposed 
to  her.  True,  Lady  Jocelyn,  forgetting  her  own  recent 
intrepidity,  condemned  her  as  a  liar ;  but  the  fruits  of  the 
Countess's  victory  were  plentiful.    Drummond  Forth,  fearful 


340  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

perhaps  of  exciting  unjust  suspicions  in  the  mind  of  Cap- 
tain Evremonde,  disappeared  altogether.  Harry  was  in  a 
mess  which  threw  him  almost  upon  Evan's  mercy,  as  will 
be  related.  And,  lastly,  Ferdinand  Laxley,  that  insufferable 
young  aristocrat,  was  thus  spot  en  to  by  Lady  Jocelyn. 

"This  letter  addressed  to  Lawson,  telling  him  that  his 
wif e  i?  here,  is  in  your  handwriting,  Ferdinand.  I  don't  say 
you  wrote  it  —  I  don't  think  you  could  have  written  it.  But, 
to  tell  you  the  truth,  I  have  an  unpleasant  impression  about 
it,  and  I  think  we  had  better  shake  hands  and  not  see  each 
other  for  some  time." 

Laxley,  after  one  denial  of  his  guilt,  disdained  to  repeat 
it.  He  met  her  ladyship's  hand  haughtily,  and,  bowing  to 
Sir  Franks,  turned  on  his  heel. 

So,  then,  in  glorious  complete  victory,  the  battle  of  the 
Bull-dogs  ended! 

Of  the  close  of  the  pic-nic  more  remains  to  be  told. 

For  the  present  I  pause,  in  observance  of  those  rules  which 
demand  that  after  an  exhibition  of  consummate  deeds,  time 
be  given  to  the  spectator  to  digest  what  has  passed  before 
him. 


CHAPTER   XXXII 

ht  which  evan's  light  begins  to  twinkle  again 

The  dowagers  were  now  firmly  planted  on  Olympus. 
Along  the  grass  lay  the  warm  strong  colours  of  the  evening 
sun,  reddening  the  pine-stems  and  yellowing  the  idle  aspen- 
leaves.  For  a  moment  it  had  hung  in  doubt  whether  the 
pic-nic  could  survive  the  two  rude  shocks  it  had  received. 
Happily  the  youthful  element  was  large,  and  when  the 
band,  refreshed  by  chicken  and  sherry,  threw  off  half-a- 
dozen  bars  of  one  of  those  irresistible  waltzes  that  first 
catch  the  ear,  and  then  curl  round  the  heart,  till  on  a  sud- 
den they  invade  and  will  have  the  legs,  a  rush  up  Parnassus 
was  seen,  and  there  were  shouts  and  laughter  and  commo- 
tion, as  over  other  great  fields  of  battle  the  corn  will  wave 
gaily  and  mark  the  re-establishment  of  nature's  reign. 


Evan's  light  begins  to  twinkle  again    341 

How  fair  the  sight!  Approach  the  twirling  couples. 
They  talk  as  they  whirl. 

"  Fancy  the  run-away  tailor ! "  is  the  male's  remark,  and 
he  expects  to  be  admired  for  it,  and  is. 

"  That  make-up  Countess  —  his  sister,  you  know  —  didn't 
you  see  her?  she  turned  green"  says  Creation's  second 
effort,  almost  occupying  the  place  of  a  rib. 

"  Isn't  there  a  run-away  wife,  too  ?  " 

"  Now,  you  mustn't  be  naughty  ! " 

They  laugh  and  flatter  one  another.  The  power  to  give 
and  take  flattery  to  any  amount  is  the  rare  treasure  of  youth. 

Undoubtedly  they  are  a  poetical  picture ;  but  some  poetical 
pictures  talk  dreary  prose ;  so  we  will  retire. 

Now,  while  the  dancers  carried  on  their  business,  and 
distance  lent  them  enchantment.  Rose  stood  by  Juliana, 
near  an  alder  which  hid  them  from  the  rest. 

"I  don't  accuse  you,"  she  was  saying;  "but  who  could 
have  done  this  but  you  ?  Ah,  Juley !  you  will  never  get 
what  you  want  if  you  plot  for  it.  I  thought  once  you  cared 
for  Evan.  If  he  had  loved  you,  would  I  not  have  done  all 
that  I  could  for  you  both?  I  pardon  you  with  all  my 
heart." 

■  "  Keep  your  pardon  ! "  was  the  angry  answer.  "  I  have 
done  more  for  you.  Rose.  He  is  an  adventurer,  and  I  have 
tried  to  open  your  eyes  and  make  you  respect  your  family. 
You  may  accuse  me  of  what  you  like,  I  have  my  conscience." 

"And  the  friendship  of  the  Countess,"  added  Rose. 

Juliana's  figure  shook  as  if  she  had  been  stung. 

"  Go  and  be  happy  —  don't  stay  here  and  taunt  me,"  she 
said,  with  a  ghastly  look.  "I  suppose  he  can  lie  like  his 
sister,  and  has  told  you  all  sorts  of  tales." 

"  Not  a  word  —  not  a  word ! "  cried  Rose.  "  Do  you  think 
my  lover  could  tell  a  lie  ?  " 

The  superb  assumption  of  the  girl,  and  the  true  portrait 
of  Evan's  character  which  it  flashed  upon  Juliana,  were  to 
the  latter  such  intense  pain,  that  she  turned  like  one  on  the 
rack,  exclaiming: 

"  You  think  so  much  of  him  ?  You  are  so  proud  of  him  ? 
Then,  yes !  I  love  him  too,  ugly,  beastly  as  I  am  to  look  at ! 
Oh,  I  know  what  you  think !  I  loved  him  from  the  first, 
and  I  knew  all  about  him,  and  spared  him  pain.     I  did  not 


342  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

wait  for  him  to  fall  from  a  horse.  I  watched  every  chance 
of  his  being  exposed.  I  let  them  imagine  he  cared  for  me. 
Drumraond  would  have  told  what  he  knew  long  before  — 
only  he  knew  there  would  not  be  much  harm  in  a  trades- 
man's son  marrying  me.  And  I  have  played  into  your 
hands,  and  now  you  taunt  me ! " 

Rose  remembered  her  fretful  unkindness  to  Evan  on  the 
subject  of  his  birth,  when  her  feelings  toward  him  were  less 
warm.  Dwelling  on  that  alone,  she  put  her  arms  round 
Juliana's  stiffening  figure,  and  said :  "  I  dare  say  I  am  much 
more  selfish  than  you.     Forgive  me,  dear." 

Staring  at  her,  Juliana  replied,  "Now  you  are  acting." 

"  No,"  said  Rose,  with  a  little  effort  to  fondle  her ;  "  I 
only  feel  that  I  love  you  better  for  loving  him." 

Generous  as  her  words  sounded,  and  were,  Juliana  in- 
tuitively struck  to  the  root  of  them,  which  was  comfortless. 
For  how  calm  in  its  fortune,  how  strong  in  its  love,  must 
Rose's  heart  be,  when  she  could  speak  in  this  unwonted 
way! 

"  Go,  and  leave  me,  pray,"  she  said. 

Rose  kissed  her  burning  cheek.  "  I  will  do  as  you  wish, 
dear.  Try  and  know  me  better,  and  be  sister  Juley  as  you 
used  to  be.  I  know  I  am  thoughtless,  and  horribly  vain 
and  disagreeable  sometimes.  Do  forgive  me.  I  will  love 
you  truly." 

Half  melting,  Juliana  pressed  her  hand. 

"  We  are  friends  ?  "  said  Rose.  "•  Good-bye ; "  and  her 
countenance  lighted,  and  she  moved  away,  so  changed  by 
her  happiness  !  Juliana  was  jealous  of  a  love  strong  as  she 
deemed  her  own  to  overcome  obstacles.  She  called  to  her : 
"  Rose !  Rose,  you  will  not  take  advantage  of  what  I  have 
told  you,  and  repeat  it  to  any  one  ?  " 

Instantly  Rose  turned  with  a  glance  of  full  contempt  over 
her  shoulder. 

"  To  whom  ?  "  she  asked. 

"  To  any  one." 

"  To  him  ?    He  would  not  love  me  k)ng  if  I  did ! " 

Juliana  burst  into  fresh  tears,  but  Rose  walked  into  the 
sunbeams  and  the  circle  of  the  music. 

Mounting  Olympus,  she  inquired  whether  Ferdinand  was 
within  hail,  as  they  were  pledged  to  dance  the  first  dance 


Evan's  light  begins  to  twinkle  again    343 

together.  A  few  hints  were  given,  and  then  Rose  learnt  that 
Ferdinand  had  been  dismissed. 

"  And  where  is  he  ?  "  she  cried  with  her  accustomed  in- 
petuosity.  "  Mama !  —  of  course  you  did  not  accuse  him  — 
but,  Mama !  could  you  possibly  let  him  go  with  the  suspicion 
that  you  thought  him  guilty  of  writing  an  anonymous 
letter  ?  " 

"  Not  at  all,"  Lady  Jocelyn  replied.  "  Only  the  handwrit- 
ing was  so  extremely  like,  and  he  was  the  only  person  who 
knew  the  address  and  the  circumstances,  and  who  could  have 
a  motive  —  though  I  don't  quite  see  what  it  is  —  I  thought  it 
as  well  to  part  for  a  time." 

"  But  that's  sophistry  ! "  said  Rose.  "  You  accuse  or  you 
exonerate.  Nobody  can  be  half  guilty.  If  you  do  not  hold 
him  innocent  you  are  unjust !  " 

Lady  Jocelyn  rejoined :  "  Yes  ?  It's  singular  what  a 
stock  of  axioms  young  people  have  handy  for  their  occa- 
sions." 

Rose  loudly  annovmced  that  she  would  right  this  matter. 

"  I  can't  think  where  Rose  gets  her  passion  for  hot  water," 
said  her  mother,  as  Rose  ran  down  the  ledge. 

Two  or  three  young  gentlemen  tried  to  engage  her  for  a 
dance.  She  gave  them  plenty  of  promises,  and  hurried  on 
till  she  met  Evan,  and,  almost  out  of  breath,  told  him  the 
shameful  injustice  that  had  been  done  to  her  friend. 

"  Mama  is  such  an  Epicurean !  I  really  think  she  is 
worse  than  Papa.  This  disgraceful  letter  looks  like  Fer- 
dinand's writing,  and  she  tells  him  so ;  and,  Evan !  will  you 
believe  that  instead  of  being  certain  it's  impossible  any  gen- 
tleman could  do  siich  a  thing,  she  tells  Ferdinand  she  shall 
feel  more  comfortable  if  she  doesn't  see  him  for  some  time  ? 
Poor  Ferdinand  !     He  has  had  so  much  to  bear !  " 

Too  sure  of  his  darling  to  be  envious  now  of  any  man  she 
pitied,  Evan  said,  "  I  would  forfeit  my  hand  on  his  inno- 
cence ! " 

"And  so  would  I,"  echoed  Rose.  "Come  to  him  with 
me,  dear.  Or  no,"  she  added,  with  a  little  womanly  discre- 
tion, "  perhaps  it  would  not  be  so  well  —  you're  not  very 
much  cast  down  by  what  happened  at  dinner  ?  " 

"  My  darling !  I  think  of  you." 

"  Of  me,  dear  ?  Concealment  is  never  of  any  service.  What 


344  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

there  is  to  be  known  people  may  as  well  know  at  onca 
They'll  gossip  for  a  month,  and  then  forget  it.  Your  mother 
is  dreadfully  outspoken,  certainly ;  but  she  has  better  man- 
ners than  many  ladies  —  I  mean  people  in  a  position :  you 
understand  me  ?  But  suppose,  dear,  this  had  happened,  and 
I  had  said  nothing  to  Mama,  and  then  we  had  to  confess  ? 
Ah,  you'll  find  I'm  wiser  than  you  imagine,  Mr.  Evan." 

"  Haven't  I  submitted  to  somebody's  lead  ?  " 

"  Yes,  but  with  a  sort  of  '  under  protest.'  I  saw  it  by  the 
mouth.  Not  quite  natural.  You  have  been  moody  ever 
since  —  just  a  little.  I  suppose  it's  our  manly  pride.  But  I'm 
losing  time.  Will  you  promise  me  not  to  brood  over  that 
occurrence  ?  Think  of  me.  Think  everything  of  me.  I  am 
yours ;  and,  dearest,  if  I  love  you,  need  you  care  what  any- 
body else  thinks  ?     We  will  soon  change  their  opinion." 

"I  care  so  little,"  said  Evan,  somewhat  untruthfully, 
*'  that  till  you  return  I  shall  go  and  sit  with  my  mother." 

"  Oh,  she  has  gone.  She  made  her  dear  old  antiquated 
curtsey  to  Mama  and  the  company.  '  If  my  son  has  not  been 
guilty  of  deception,  I  will  leave  him  to  your  good  pleasure, 
my  Udy.'  That's  what  she  said.  Mama  likes  her,  I  know. 
But  I  wish  she  didn't  mouth  her  words  so  precisely:  it 
reminds  me  of  —  "  the  Countess,  Rose  checked  herself  from 
saying.  "  Good-bye.  Thank  heaven !  the  worst  has  happened. 
Do  you  know  what  I  should  do  if  I  were  you,  and  felt  at  all 
distressed  ?  I  should  keep  repeating,"  Rose  looked  archly 
and  deeply  up  under  his  eyelids,  "  *  I  am  the  son  of  a  trades- 
man, and  Rose  loves  me,'  over  and  over,  and  then,  if  you 
feel  ashamed,  what  is  it  of  ?  " 

She  nodded  adieu,  laughing  at  her  own  idea  of  her  great 
worth ;  an  idea  very  firmly  fixed  in  her  fair  bosom,  notwith- 
standing. Mrs.  Melville  said  of  her,  "  I  used  to  think  she 
had  pride."  Lady  Jocelyn  answered,  "  So  she  has.  The 
misfortune  is  that  it  has  taken  the  wrong  turning." 

Evan  watched  the  figure  that  was  to  him  as  that  of  an 
angel  —  no  less !  She  spoke  so  frankly  to  them  as  she 
passed :  or  here  and  there  went  on  with  a  light  laugh.  It 
seemed  an  act  of  graciousness  that  she  should  open  her 
mouth  to  one !  And,  indeed,  by  virtue  of  a  pride  which 
raised  her  to  the  level  of  what  she  thought  it  well  to  do,  Rose 
was  veritably  on  higher  ground  than  any  present.     She  no 


Evan's  light  begins  to  twinkle  again    345 

longer  envied  her  friend  Jenny,  who,  emerging  from  the 
shades,  allured  by  the  waltz,  dislinked  herself  from  Wil- 
liam's arm,  and  whispered  exclamations  of  sorrow  at  the 
scene  created  by  Mr.  Harrington's  mother.  Rose  patted  her 
hand,  and  said :  "  Thank  you,  Jenny  dear :  but  don't  be  sorry. 
I'm  glad.     It  prevents  a  number  of  private  explanations." 

"  Still,  dear ! "  Jenny  suggested. 

"  Oh !  of  course,  I  should  like  to  lay  my  whip  across  the 
shoulders  of  the  person  who  arranged  the  conspiracy,"  said 
Rose.  "  And  afterwards  I  don't  mind  returning  thanks  to 
him,  or  her,  or  them," 

William  cried  out,  "  I'm  always  on  your  side,  Rose," 

"  And  I'll  be  Jenny's  bridesmaid,"  rejoined  Rose,  stepping 
blithely  away  from  them, 

Evan  debated  whither  to  turn  when  Rose  was  lost  to  his 
eyes.  He  had  no  heart  for  dancing.  Presently  a  servant 
approached,  and  said  that  Mr.  Harry  particularly  desired  to 
see  him.  From  Harry's  looks  at  table,  Evan  judged  that 
the  interview  was  not  likely  to  be  amicalDle.  He  asked  the 
direction  he  was  to  take,  and  setting  out  with  long  strides, 
came  in  sight  of  Raikes,  who  walked  in  gloom,  and  was 
evidently  labouring  under  one  of  his  mountains  of  melan- 
choly. He  affected  to  be  quite  out  of  the  world ;  but  finding 
that  Evan  took  the  hint  in  his  usual  prosy  manner,  was 
reduced  to  call  after  him,  and  finally  to  run  and  catch  him. 

"  Haven't  you  one  single  spark  of  curiosity  ?  "  he  began. 

"  What  about  ?  "  said  Evan. 

"  Why,  about  my  amazing  luck !  You  haven't  asked  a 
question.     A  matter  of  course." 

Evan  complimented  him  by  asking  a  question :  saying  that 
Jack's  luck  certainly  was  wonderful. 

"  Wonderful,  you  call  it,"  said  Jack,  witheringly.  "  And 
what's  more  wonderful  is,  that  I'd  give  up  all  for  quiet 
quarters  in  the  Green  Dragon.  I  knew  I  was  prophetic,  I 
knew  I  should  regret  that  peaceful  hostelry,  Diocletian,  if 
you  like.  I  beg  you  to  listen.  I  can't  walk  so  fast  without 
danger." 

"  Well,  speak  out,  man.  What's  the  matter  with  you  ?  " 
cried  Evan,  impatiently. 

Jack  shook  his  head :  "  I  see  a  total  absence  of  sympathy," 
he  remarked.     "  I  can't." 


346  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"  Then  stand  out  of  the  way." 

Jack  let  him  pass,  exclaiming,  with  cold  irony,  ''I  will 
pay  homage  to  a  loftier  Nine ! " 

Mr.  Raikes  could  not  in  his  soul  imagine  that  Evan  was 
really  so  little  inquisitive  concerning  a  business  of  such  im- 
portance as  the  trouble  that  possessed  him.  He  watched  his 
friend  striding  off,  incredulously,  and  then  commenced  run- 
ning in  pursuit. 

"  Harrington,  I  give  in ;  I  surrender ;  you  reduce  me  to 
prose.  Thy  nine  have  conquered  my  nine !  —  pardon  me, 
old  fellow.  I'm  immensely  upset.  This  is  the  first  day  in 
my  life  that  I  ever  felt  what  indigestion  is.  Egad,  I've  got 
something  to  derange  the  best  digestion  going. 

"  Look  here,  Harrington.  What  happened  to  you  to-day, 
I  declare  I  think  nothing  of.  You  owe  me  your  assistance, 
you  do,  indeed;  for  if  it  hadn't  been  for  the  fearful  fascina- 
tions of  your  sister  —  that  divine  Countess  —  I  should  have 
been  engaged  to  somebody  by  this  time,  and  profited  by  the 
opportunity  held  out  to  me,  and  which  is  now  gone.  I'm 
disgraced.  I'm  known.  And  the  worst  of  it  is,  I  must 
face  people.  I  daren't  turn  tail.  Did  you  ever  hear  of 
such  a  dilemma?  " 

"Ay,"  quoth  Evan,  "what  is  it?" 

Raikes  turned  pale.  "Then  you  haven't  heard  of 
it?" 

"Not  a  word." 

"  Then  it's  all  for  me  to  tell.  I  called  on  Messrs.  Grist.  I 
dined  at  the  Aurora  afterwards.  Depend  upon  it,  Harring- 
ton, we're  led  by  a  star.  I  mean,  fellows  with  anything  in 
them  are.  I  recognized  our  Fallowfield  host,  and  thinking 
to  draw  him  out,  I  told  our  mutual  histories.  Next  day 
I  went  to  these  Messrs.  Grist.  They  proposed  the  member- 
ship for  Fallowfield,  five  hundred  a  year,  and  the  loan  of  a 
curricle,  on  condition.  It's  singular,  Harrington;  before 
anybody  knew  of  the  condition  I  didn't  care  about  it  a  bit. 
It  seemed  to  me  childish.  Who  would  think  of  minding 
wearing  a  tin  plate?  But  now!  — the  sufferings  of  Orestes 
—  what  are  they  to  mine?  He  wasn't  tied  to  his  Furies. 
They  did  hover  a  little  above  him;  but  as  for  me,  I'm 
scorched;  and  I  mustn't  say  where:  my  mouth  is  locked; 
the  social  laws  which  forbid  the  employment  of  obsolete 


EVAN'S   LIGHT   BEGINS   TO   TWINKLE  AGAIN      347 

words  arrest  my  exclamations  of  despair.  What  do  you 
advise?" 

Evan  stared  a  moment  at  the  wretched  object,  whose 
dream  of  meeting  a  beneficent  old  gentleman  had  brought 
him  to  be  the  sport  of  a  cynical  farceur.  He  had  shivers 
on  his  own  account,  seeing  something  of  himself  magnified, 
and  he  loathed  the  fellow,  only  to  feel  more  acutely  what 
a  stigma  may  be. 

"It's  a  case  I  can't  advise  in,"  he  said,  as  gently  as  he 
could.     "I  should  be  oif  the  grounds  in  a  hurry." 

"  And  then  I'm  where  I  was  before  I  met  the  horrid  old 
brute !  "  Raikes  moaned. 

"  I  told  him  over  a  pint  of  port  —  and  noble  stuff  is  that 
Aurora  port!  —  I  told  him  —  I  amused  him  till  he  was  on 
the  point  of  bursting  —  I  told  him  I  was  such  a  gentleman 
as  the  world  hadn't  seen  —  minus  money.  So  he  deter- 
mined to  launch  me.  He  said  I  should  lead  the  life  of  such 
a  gentleman  as  the  world  had  not  yet  seen  —  on  that  simple 
condition,  which  appeared  to  me  childish,  a  senile  whine; 
rather  an  indulgence  of  his." 

Evan  listened  to  the  tribulations  of  his  friend  as  he  would 
to  those  of  a  doll  —  the  sport  of  some  experimental  child. 
By  this  time  he  knew  something  of  old  Tom  Cogglesby,  and 
was  not  astonished  that  he  should  have  chosen  John  Raikes 
to  play  one  of  his  farces  on.  Jack  turned  off  abruptly  the 
moment  he  saw  they  were  nearing  human  figures,  but  soon 
returned  to  Evan's  side,  as  if  for  protection. 

"Hoy!  Harrington!  "  shouted  Harry,  beckoning  to  him. 
"Come,  make  haste!     I'm  in  a  deuce  of  a  mess." 

The  two  Wheedles  —  Susan  and  Polly  —  were  standing  in 
front  of  him,  and  after  his  call  to  Evan,  he  turned  to  con- 
tinue some  exhortation  or  appeal  to  the  common-sense  of 
women,  largely  indulged  in  by  young  men  when  the  mischief 
is  done. 

"  Harrington,  do  speak  to  her.  She  looks  upon  you  as  a 
sort  of  parson.  I  can't  make  her  believe  I  didn't  send  for 
her.  Of  course,  she  knows  I'm  fond  of  her.  My  dear  fel- 
low," he  whispered,  "I  shall  be  ruined  if  my  grandmother 
hears  of  it.     Get  her  away,  please.     Promise  anything." 

Evan  took  her  hand  and  asked  for  the  child. 

"Quite  well,  siT,"  faltered  Susan. 


348  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"You  should  not  have  come  here." 

Susan  stared,  and  commenced  whimpering :  "  Didn't  you 
wish  it,  sir?  " 

"Oh,  she's  always  thinking  of  being  made  a  lady  of," 
cried  Polly.  "  As  if  Mr.  Harry  was  going  to  do  that.  It 
wants  a  gentleman  to  do  that." 

"  The  carriage  came  for  me,  sir,  in  the  afternoon, "  said 
Susan,  plaintively,  "with  your  compliments,  and  would  I 
come.     I  thought " 

"What  carriage?"  asked  Evan. 

Raikes,  who  was  ogling  Polly,  interposed  grandly, 
"Mine!" 

"And  you  sent  in  my  name  for  this  girl  to  come  here?" 
Evan  turned  wrathfully  on  him. 

"My  dear  Harrington,  when  you  hit  you  knock  down. 
The  wise  require  but  one  dose  of  experience.  The  Countess 
wished  it,  and  I  did  despatch." 

"  The  Countess ! "  Harry  exclaimed ;  "  Jove !  do  you  mean 
to  say  that  the  Countess " 

"  De  Saldar,"  added  Jack.  "  In  Britain  none  were  worthy 
found." 

Harry  gave  a  long  whistle. 

"Leave  at  once,"  said  Evan  to  Susan.  "Whatever  you 
may  want  send  to  me  for.  And  when  you  think  you  can 
meet  your  parents,  I  will  take  you  to  them.  Remember 
•jhat  is  what  you  must  do." 

"  Make  her  give  up  that  stupidness  of  hers,  about  being 
made  a  lady  of,  Mr.  Harrington,"  said  the  inveterate  Polly. 

Susan  here  fell  a- weeping. 

"I  would  go,  sir,"  she  said.  "I'm  sure  I  would  obey 
you:  but  I  can't.  I  can't  go  back  to  the  inn.  They're 
beginning  to  talk  about  me,  because  —  because  I  can't  — 
can't  pay  them,  and  I'm  ashamed." 

Evan  looked  at  Harry. 

"I  forgot,"  the  latter  mumbled,  but  his  face  was  crimson. 
He  put  his  hands  in  his  pockets.  "  Do  you  happen  to  have 
a  note  or  so?  "  he  asked. 

Evan  took  him  aside  and  gave  him  what  he  had;  and 
this  amount,  without  inspection  or  reserve,  Harry  offered 
to  Susan.  She  dashed  his  hand  impetuously  from  her 
sight. 


EVAN'S   LIGHT   BEGINS   TO   TWINKLE  AGAIN      349 

"There,  give  it  to  me,"  said  Polly.  "Oh,  Mr.  Harry! 
what  a  young  man  you  are ! " 

Whether  from  the  rebuff,  or  the  reproach,  or  old  feelings 
reviving,  Harry  was  moved  to  go  forward,  and  lay  his  hand 
on  Susan's  shoulder  and  mutter  something  in  her  ear  that 
softened  her. 

Polly  thrust  the  notes  into  her  bosom,  and  with  a  toss 
of  her  nose,  as  who  should  say,  "Here's  nonsense  they're 
at  again,"  tapped  Susan  on  the  other  shoulder,  and  said 
imperiously :  "  Come,  Miss !  " 

Hurrying  out  a  dozen  sentences  in  one,  Harry  ended  by 
suddenly  kissing  Susan's  cheek,  and  then  Polly  bore  her 
away;  and  Harry,  with  great  solemnity,  said  to  Evan: 

"  'Pon  my  honour,  I  think  I  ought  to !  I  declare  I  think 
I  love  that  girl.  What's  one's  family?  Why  shouldn't  you 
button  to  the  one  that  just  suits  you?  That  girl,  when  she's 
dressed,  and  in  good  trim,  by  Jove!  nobody 'd  know  her  from 
a  born  lady.    And  as  for  grammar,  I'd  soon  teach  her  that." 

Harry  began  to  whistle :  a  sign  in  him  that  he  was  think- 
ing his  hardest. 

"  I  confess  to  being  considerably  impressed  by  the  maid 
Wheedle,"  said  Eaikes. 

"  Would  you  throw  yourself  away  on  her? "  'Evan  in- 
quired. 

Apparently  forgetting  how  he  stood,  Mr.  Eaikes  replied : 

"  You  ask,  perhaps,  a  little  too  much  of  me.  One  owes 
consideration  to  one's  position.  In  the  world's  eyes  a 
matrimonial  slip  outweighs  a  peccadillo.  No.  To  much 
the  maid  might  wheedle  me,  but  to  Hymen!  She's  decid- 
edly fresh  and  pert  —  the  most  delicious  little  fat  lips  and 
cocky  nose ;  but  cease  we  to  dwell  on  her,  or  of  us  two,  lo ! 
one  will  be  undone." 

Harry  burst  into  a  laugh:  "Is  this  the  T.P.  for  Fallow- 
field?  " 

"M.P.  I  think  you  mean,"  quoth  Eaikes,  serenely;  but 
a  curious  glance  being  directed  on  him,  and  pursuing  him 
pertinaciously,  it  was  as  if  the  pediment  of  the  lofty  monu- 
ment he  topped  were  smitten  with  violence.  He  stammered 
an  excuse,  and  retreated  somewhat  as  it  is  the  fashion  to 
do  from  the  presence  of  royalty,  followed  by  Harry's  roar 
of  laughter,  in  which  Evan  cruelly  joined. 


350  EVAN   HARRINGTON' 

"  Gracious  powers ! "  exclaimed  the  victim  of  ambition, 
" I'm  laughed  at  by  the  son  of  a  tailor!  "  and  he  edged  once 
more  into  the  shade  of  trees. 

It  was  a  strange  sight  for  Harry's  relatives  to  see  him 
arm-in-arm  with  the  man  he  should  have  been  kicking, 
challenging,  denouncing,  or  whatever  the  code  prescribes : 
to  see  him  talking  to  this  young  man  earnestly,  clinging  to 
him  affectionately,  and  when  he  separated  from  him,  heart- 
ily wringing  his  hand.  Well  might  they  think  that  there 
was  something  extraordinary  in  these  Harringtons.  Con- 
victed of  Tailordom,  these  Harringtons  appeared  to  shine 
with  double  lustre.  How  was  it?  They  were  at  a  loss  to 
say.  They  certainly  could  say  that  the  Countess  was 
egregiously  affected  and  vulgar;  but  who  could  be  alto- 
gether complacent  and  sincere  that  had  to  fight  so  hard  a 
tight?  In  this  struggle  with  society  I  see  one  of  the 
instances  where  success  is  entirely  to  be  honoured  and 
remains  a  proof  of  merit.  For  however  boldly  antagonism 
may  storm  the  ranks  of  society,  it  will  certainly  be  repelled, 
whereas  affinity  cannot  be  resisted;  and  they  who,  against 
obstacles  of  birth,  claim  and  keep  their  position  among  the 
educated  and  refined,  have  that  affinity.  It  is,  on  the  whole, 
rare,  so  that  society  is  not  often  invaded.  I  think  it  will 
have  to  front  Jack  Cade  again  before  another  Old  Mel  and 
his  progeny  shall  appear.  You  refuse  to  believe  in  Old 
Mel?     You  know  not  nature's  cunning. 

Mrs.  Shorne,  Mrs.  Melville,  Miss  Carrington,  and  many 
of  the  guests  who  observed  Evan  moving  from  place  to 
place,  after  the  exposure,  as  they  called  it,  were  amazed  at 
his  audacity.  There  seemed  such  a  quietly  superb  air 
about  him.  He  would  not  look  out  of  his  element;  and 
this,  knowing  what  they  knew,  was  his  offence.  He  deserved 
some  commendation  for  still  holding  up  his  head,  but  it  was 
love  and  Rose  who  kept  the  fires  of  his  heart  alive. 

The  sun  had  sunk.  The  figures  on  the  summit  of  Par- 
nassus were  seen  bobbing  in  happy  placidity  against  the 
twilight  sky.  The  sun  had  sunk,  and  many  of  Mr.  Raikes's 
best  things  were  unspoken.  Wandering  about  in  his  gloom, 
he  heard  a  feminine  voice : 

"Yes,  I  will  trust  you." 

"You  will  not  repent  it,"  was  answered. 


THE  HERO  TAKES  HIS  RANK  IN  THE  ORCHESTRA    351 

Recognizing  the  Duke,  Mr.  Raikes  cleared  his  throat. 

**  A-hem,  your  Grace !  This  is  how  the  days  should  pass. 
I  think  we  should  diurnally  station  a  good  London  band  on 
high,  and  play  his  Majesty  to  bed  —  the  sun.  My  opinion 
is,  it  would  improve  the  crops.  I'm  not,  as  yet,  a  landed 
proprietor " 

The  Duke  stepped  aside  with  him,  and  Raikes  addressed 
no  one  for  the  next  twenty  minutes.  When  he  next  came 
forth  Parnassus  was  half  deserted.  It  was  known  that  old 
Mrs.  Bonner  had  been  taken  with  a  dangerous  attack,  and 
under  this  third  blow  the  pic-nic  succumbed.  Simultane- 
ously with  the  messenger  that  brought  the  news  to  Lady 
Jocelyn,  one  approached  Evan,  and  informed  him  that  the 
Countess  de  Saldar  urgently  entreated  him  to  come  to  the 
house  without  delay.  He  also  wished  to  speak  a  few  words 
to  her,  and  stepped  forward  briskly.  He  had  no  prophetic 
intimations  of  the  change  this  interview  would  bring  upon 
him. 


CHAPTER  XXXIII 

THE   HERO   TAKES   HIS   RANK   IN   THE   ORCHESTRA 

The  Countess  was  not  in  her  dressing-room  when  Evan 
presented  himself.  She  was  in  attendance  on  Mrs.  Bonner, 
Conning  said;  and  the  primness  of  Conning  was  a  thing  to 
have  been  noticed  by  any  one  save  a  dreamy  youth  in  love. 
Conning  remained  in  the  room,  keeping  distinctly  aloof. 
Her  duties  absorbed  her,  but  a  presiding  thought  mechani- 
cally jerked  back  her  head  from  time  to  time :  being  the 
mute  form  of,  "  Well,  I  never ! "  in  Conning's  rank  of  life 
and  intellectual  capacity.  Evan  remained  quite  still  in  a 
chair,  and  Conning  was  certainly  a  number  of  paces  beyond 
suspicion,  when  the  Countess  appeared,  and  hurling  at  the 
maid  one  of  those  feminine  looks  which  contain  huge  quartos 
of  meaning,  vented  the  cold  query : 

"  Pray,  why  did  you  not  come  to  me,  as  you  were  com- 
manded ?  " 

"  I  was  not  aware,  my  lady,"  Conning  drew  up  to  reply, 


352  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

and  performed  with  her  eyes  a  lofty  rejection  of  the  volume 
cast  at  her,  and  a  threat  of  several  for  offensive  operations, 
if  need  were. 

The  Countess  spoke  nearer  to  what  she  was  implying: 
"You  know  I  object  to  this :  it  is  not  the  first  time." 

"  Would  your  ladyship  please  to  say  what  your  ladyship 
means  ?  " 

In  return  for  this  insolent  challenge  to  throw  off  the  mask, 
the  Countess  felt  justified  in  punishing  her  by  being  explicit. 
"  Your  irregularities  are  not  of  yesterday,"  she  said,  kindly 
making  use  of  a  word  of  double  signification  still. 

"Thank  you,  my  lady."  Conning  accepted  the  word  in 
its  blackest  meaning.  "  I  am  obliged  to  you.  If  your  lady- 
ship is  to  be  believed,  my  character  is  not  worth  much.  But 
I  can  make  distinctions,  my  lady." 

Something  very  like  an  altercation  was  continued  in  a 
sharp,  brief  undertone ;  and  then  Evan,  waking  up  to  the 
affairs  of  the  hour,  heard  Conning  say : 

"  I  shall  not  ask  your  ladyship  to  give  me  a  character." 

The  Countess  answering  with  pathos :  "  It  would,  indeed, 
be  to  give  you  one." 

He  was  astonished  that  the  Countess  should  burst  into 
tears  when  Conning  had  departed,  and  yet  more  so  that  his 
effort  to  console  her  should  bring  a  bolt  of  wrath  upon  himself. 

"  Now,  Evan,  now  see  what  you  have  done  for  us  —  do, 
and  rejoice  at  it.  The  very  menials  insult  us.  You  heard 
what  that  creature  said  ?  She  can  make  distinctions.  Oh !  I 
could  beat  her.  They  know  it :  all  the  servants  know  it :  I 
can  see  it  in  their  faces.  I  feel  it  when  I  pass  them.  The 
insolent  wretches  treat  us  as  impostors ;  and  this  Conning  — 
to  defy  me !  Oh !  it  comes  of  my  devotion  to  you.  I  am 
properly  chastised.  I  passed  Rose's  maid  on  the  stairs,  and 
her  reverence  was  barely  perceptible." 

Evan  murmured  that  he  was  very  sorry,  adding,  foolishly : 
"Do  you  really  care,  Louisa,  for  what  servants  think  and 
say  ?  " 

The  Countess  sighed  deeply:  "Oh!  you  are  too  thick- 
skinned  !  Your  mother  from  top  to  toe !  It  is  too  dreadful ! 
What  have  I  done  to  deserve  it  ?     Oh,  Evan,  Evan ! " 

Her  head  dropped  in  her  lap.  There  was  something 
ludicrous  to  Evan  in  this  excess  of  grief  on  accoimt  of  such 


THE  HERO  TAKES  HIS  RANK  IN  THE  ORCHESTRA    353 

a  business ;  but  he  was  tender-hearted  and  wrought  upon  to 
declare  that,  whether  or  not  he  was  to  blame  for  his  mother's 
intrusion  that  afternoon,  he  was  ready  to  do  what  he  could 
to  make  up  to  the  Countess  for  her  sufferings :  whereat  the 
Countess  sighed  again :  asked  him  what  he  possibly  could 
do,  and  doubted  his  willingness  to  accede  to  the  most  trifling 
request. 

"  No ;  I  do  in  verity  believe  that  were  I  to  desire  you  to 
do  aught  for  your  own  good  alone,  you  woiild  demur,  Van." 

He  assured  her  that  she  was  mistaken. 

"  We  shall  see,"  she  said. 

"And  if  once  or  twice,  I  have  run  counter  to  you, 
Louisa  —  " 

"  Abominable  language ! "  cried  the  Countess,  stopping 
her  ears  like  a  child.  "Do  not  excruciate  me  so.  You 
laugh !     My  goodness !  what  will  you  come  to ! " 

Evan  checked  his  smile,  and,  taking  her  hand,  said :  "  I 
must  tell  you,  that,  on  the  whole,  I  see  nothing  to  regret  in 
what  has  happened  to-day.  You  may  notice  a  change  in  the 
manners  of  the  servants  and  some  of  the  country  squiresses, 
but  I  find  none  in  the  bearing  of  the  real  ladies,  the  true 
gentlemen,  to  me." 

"  Because  the  change  is  too  fine  for  you  to  perceive  it," 
interposed  the  Countess. 

"  Rose,  then,  and  her  mother,  and  her  father ! "  Evan  cried 
impetuously. 

"  As  for  Lady  Jocelyn ! "  the  Countess  shrugged :  "  And 
Sir  Franks  ! "  her  head  shook  :  "  and  Rose,  Rose  is  simply 
self-willed ;  a  '  she  will '  or  '  she  won't '  sort  of  little  person. 
No  criterion !  Henceforth  the  world  is  against  us.  We 
have  to  struggle  with  it :  it  does  not  rank  us  of  it !  " 

"  Your  feeling  on  the  point  is  so  exaggerated,  my  dear 
Louisa,"  said  Evan,  "one  can't  bring  reason  to  your  ears. 
The  tattle  we  shall  hear  we  shall  outlive.  I  care  extremely 
for  the  good  opinion  of  men,  but  I  prefer  my  own ;  and  I 
do  not  lose  it  because  my  father  was  in  trade." 

"  And  your  own  name,  Evan  Harrington,  is  on  a  shop," 
the  Countess  struck  in,  and  watched  him  severely  from 
under  her  brow,  glad  to  mark  that  he  could  still  blush. 

"  Oh,  heaven ! "  she  wailed  to  increase  the  effect,  "  on  q 
shop !  a  brother  of  mine ! " 


354  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"  Yes,  Louisa.  It  may  not  last  ...  I  did  it  —  is  it  not 
better  that  a  son  should  blush,  than  cast  dishonour  on  his 
father's  memory  ?  " 

"  Ridiculous  boy-notion ! " 

"Rose  has  pardoned  it,  Louisa — cannot  you?  I  find 
that  the  naturally  vulgar  and  narrow-headed  people,  and 
cowards  who  never  forego  mean  advantages,  are  those  only 
who  would  condemn  me  and  my  conduct  in  that." 

"  And  you  have  joy  in  your  fraction  of  the  world  left  to 
you ! "  exclaimed  his  female-elder. 

Changing  her  manner  to  a  winning  softness,  she  said: 
"  Let  me  also  belong  to  the  very  small  party !  You  have 
been  really  romantic,  and  most  generous  and  noble ;  only  the 
shop  smells!  But,  never  mind,  promise  me  you  will  not 
enter  it." 

"I  hope  not,"  said  Evan. 

"  You  do  hope  that  you  will  not  officiate  ?  Oh,  Evan ! 
the  eternal  contemplation  of  gentlemen's  legs !  think  of 
that !  Think  of  yourself  sculptured  in  that  attitude ! "  In- 
numerable little  prickles  and  stings  shot  over  Evan's  skin. 

"There  —  there,  Louisa!"  he  said  impatiently;  "spare 
your  ridicule.  We  go  to  London  to-morrow,  and  when  there 
I  expect  to  hear  that  I  have  an  appointment,  and  that  this 
engagement  is  over."  He  rose  and  walked  up  and  down  the 
room. 

"  I  shall  not  be  prepared  to  go  to-morrow,"  remarked  the 
Countess,  drawing  her  figure  up  stiffly. 

"  Oh !  well,  if  you  can  stay,  Andrew  will  take  charge  of 
you,  I  dare  say." 

"  No,  my  dear,  Andrew  will  not  —  a  nonentity  cannot  — 
you  must." 

"Impossible,  Louisa,"  said  Evan,  as  one  who  imagines 
he  is  uttering  a  thing  of  little  consequence.  "  I  promised 
Rose." 

"  You  promised  Rose  that  you  would  abdicate  and  retire  ? 
Sweet,  loving  girl ! " 

Evan  made  no  answer. 

"  You  will  stay  with  me,  Evan." 

"  I  really  can't,"  he  said  in  his  previous  careless  tone. 

"Come  and  sit  down,"  cried  the  Countess,  imperiously. 
"The  first  trifle  is  refused.     It  does  not  astonish  me.     I 


THE  HERO  TAKES  HIS  RANK  JN  THE  ORCHESTRA    355 

will  honour  you  now  by  talking  seriously  to  you.  I  have 
treated  you  hitherto  as  a  child.  Or,  no  —  "  she  stopped  her 
mouth;  "it  is  enough  if  I  tell  you,  dear,  that  poor  Mrs. 
Bonner  is  dying,  and  that  she  desires  my  attendance  on  her 
to  refresh  her  spirit  with  readings  on  the  Prophecies,  and 
Scriptural  converse.  No  other  soul  in  the  house  can  so 
soothe  her." 

"  Then,  stay,"  said  Evan. 

"  Unprotected  in  the  midst  of  enemies !     Truly ! " 

"  I  think,  Louisa,  if  you  can  call  Lady  Jocelyn  an  enemy, 
you  must  read  the  Scriptures  by  a  false  light." 

"  The  woman  is  an  utter  heathen ! "  interjected  the  Count- 
ess. "  An  infidel  can  be  no  friend.  She  is  therefore  the 
reverse.  Her  opinions  embitter  her  mother's  last  days. 
But  now  you  will  consent  to  remain  with  me,  dear  Van ! " 

An  implacable  negative  responded  to  the  urgent  appeal  of 
her  eyes. 

"  By  the  way,"  he  said,  for  a  diversion,  "  did  you  know  of 
a  girl  stopping  at  an  inn  in  Fallowfield  ?  " 

"  Know  a  barmaid  ? "  the  Countess's  eyes  and  mouth 
were  wide  at  the  question. 

"  Did  you  send  Kaikes  for  her  to-day  ?  " 

"  Did  Mr.  Kaikes  —  ah,  Evan !  that  creature  reminds  me, 
you  have  no  sense  of  contrast.  For  a  Brazilian  ape  —  he 
resembles,  if  he  is  not  truly  one  —  what  contrast  is  he  to 
an  English  gentleman !  His  proximity  and  acquaintance  — 
rich  as  he  may  be  —  disfigure  you.     Study  contrast ! " 

Evan  had  to  remind  her  that  she  had  not  answered  him ; 
whereat  she  exclaimed :  "  One  would  really  think  you  had 
never  been  abroad.     Have  you  not  evaded  me,  rather  ?  " 

The  Countess  commenced  fanning  her  languid  brows,  and 
then  pursued :  "  Now,  my  dear  brother,  I  may  conclude  that 
you  will  acquiesce  in  my  moderate  wishes.  You  remain. 
My  venerable  friend  cannot  last  three  days.  She  is  on  the 
brink  of  a  better  world !  I  will  confide  to  you  that  it  is  of 
the  utmost  importance  we  should  be  here,  on  the  spot,  until 
the  sad  termination !  That  is  what  I  summoned  you  for. 
You  are  now  at  liberty.     Ta-ta,  as  soon  as  you  please." 

She  had  baffled  his  little  cross-examination  with  regard 
to  Raikes,  but  on  the  other  point  he  was  firm.  She  would 
listen  to  nothing :  she  affected  that  her  mandate  had  gone 


356  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

forth,  and  must  be  obeyed;  tapped  with  her  foot,  fanned 
deliberately,  and  was  a  consummate  queen,  till  he  turned 
the  handle  of  the  door,  when  her  complexion  deadened,  she 
started  up,  trembling,  and  tripping  towards  him,  caught  him 
by  the  arm,  and  said :  "  Stop !  After  all  that  I  have  sacri- 
ficed for  you !  As  well  try  to  raise  the  dead  as  a  Dawley 
from  the  dust  he  grovels  in !  Why  did  I  consent  to  visit 
this  place  ?  It  was  for  you.  I  came,  I  heard  that  you  had 
disgraced  yourself  in  drunkenness  at  Fallowfield,  and  I  toiled 
to  eclipse  that,  and  I  did.  Young  Jocelyn  thought  you  were 
what  you  are :  I  could  spit  the  word  at  you !  and  I  dazzled 
him  to  give  you  time  to  win  this  minx,  who  will  spin  you 
like  a  top  if  you  get  her.  That  Mr.  Forth  knew  it  as  well, 
and  that  vile  young  Laxley.  They  are  gone!  Why  are 
they  gone  ?  Because  they  thwarted  me  —  they  crossed  your 
interests  —  I  said  they  should  go.  George  Uplof t  is  going 
to-day.  The  house  is  left  to  us ;  and  I  believe  firmly  that 
Mrs.  Bonner's  will  contains  a  memento  of  the  effect  of  our 
frequent  religious  conversations.  So  you  would  leave  now  ? 
I  suspect  nobody,  but  we  are  all  human,  and  Wills  would 
not  have  been  tampered  with  for  the  first  time.  Besides," 
and  the  Countess's  imagination  warmed  till  she  addressed 
her  brother  as  a  confederate,  "  we  shall  then  see  to  whom 
Beckley  Court  is  bequeathed.  Either  way  it  may  be  yours. 
Yours !  and  you  suffer  their  plots  to  drive  you  forth.  Do 
you  not  perceive  that  Mama  was  brought  here  to-day  on 
purpose  to  shame  us  and  cast  us  out  ?  We  are  surrounded 
by  conspiracies,  but  if  our  faith  is  pure,  who  can  hurt  us  ? 
If  I  had  not  that  consolation  —  would  that  you  had  it,  too ! 
—  would  it  be  endurable  for  me  to  see  those  menials  whis- 
pering and  showing  their  forced  respect?  As  it  is,  I  am 
fortified  to  forgive  them.  I  breathe  another  atmosphere. 
Oh,  Evan!  you  did  not  attend  to  Mr.  Parsley's  beautiful 
last  sermon.  The  Church  should  have  been  your  vocation." 
From  vehemence  the  Countess  had  subsided  to  a  mournful 
gentleness.  She  had  been  too  excited  to  notice  any  changes 
in  her  brother's  face  during  her  speech,  and  when  he  turned 
from  the  door,  and  still  eyeing  her  fixedly,  led  her  to  a  chair, 
she  fancied  from  his  silence  that  she  had  subdued  and  con- 
vinced him.  A  delicious  sense  of  her  power,  succeeded  by 
a  weary  reflection  that  she  had  constantly  to  employ  it, 


THE  HERO  TAKES  HIS  RANK  IN  THE  ORCHESTRA    357 

occupied  her  mind,  and  when  presently  she  looked  up  from 
the  shade  of  her  hand,  it  was  to  agitate  her  head  pitifully 
at  her  brother. 

"  All  this  you  have  done  for  me,  Louisa,"  he  said. 

"  Yes,  Evan,  —  all !  "  she  fell  into  his  tone. 

"And  you  are  the  cause  of  Laxley's  going?  Did  you 
know  anything  of  that  anonymous  letter  ?  " 

He  was  squeezing  her  hand  —  with  grateful  affection,  as 
she  was  deluded  to  imagine. 

"Perhaps,  dear, — a  little,"  her  conceit  prompted  her  to 
admit. 

"  Did  you  write  it  ?  " 

He  gazed  intently  into  her  eyes,  and  as  the  question  shot 
like  a  javelin,  she  tried  ineffectually  to  disengage  her  fingers ; 
her  delusion  waned ;  she  took  fright,  but  it  was  too  late ;  he 
had  struck  the  truth  out  of  her  before  she  could  speak.  Her 
spirit  writhed  like  a  snake  in  his  hold.  Innumerable  things 
she  was  ready  to  say,  and  strove  to ;  the  words  would  not 
form  on  her  lips. 

"  I  will  be  answered,  Louisa." 

The  stern  manner  he  had  assumed  gave  her  no  hope  of 
eluding  him.  With  an  inward  gasp,  and  a  sensation  of 
nakedness  altogether  new  to  her,  dismal,  and  alarming,  she 
felt  that  she  could  not  lie.  Like  a  creature  forsaken  of  her 
staunchest  friend,  she  could  have  flung  herself  to  the  floor. 
The  next  instant  her  natural  courage  restored  her.  She 
jumped  up  and  stood  at  bay. 

"  Yes.     I  did." 

And  now  he  was  weak,  and  she  was  strong,  and  used  her 
strength. 

"  I  wrote  it  to  save  you.  Yes.  Call  on  your  Creator,  and 
be  my  judge,  if  you  dare.  Never,  never  will  you  meet  a 
soul  more  utterly  devoted  to  you,  Evan.  This  Mr.  Forth, 
this  Laxley,  I  said,  should  go,  because  they  were  resolved  to 
ruin  you,  and  make  you  base.  They  are  gone.  The  respon- 
sibility I  take  on  myself.  Nightly  —  during  the  remainder 
of  my  days  —  I  will  pray  for  pardon." 

He  raised  his  head  to  ask  sombrely :  "  Is  your  handwrit- 
ing like  Laxley's  ?  " 

"  It  seems  so,"  she  answered,  with  a  pitiful  sneer  for  one 
who  could  arrest  her  exaltation  to  inquire  about  minutiae. 


358  EVAN  HAERINGTON 

"  Right  or  wrong,  it  is  done,  and  if  you  choose  to  be  my 
judge,  think  whether  your  own  conscience  is  clear.  Why 
did  you  come  here  ?  Why  did  you  stay  ?  You  have  your 
free  will,  —  do  you  deny  that  ?  Oh,  I  will  take  the  entire 
blame,  but  you  must  not  be  a  hypocrite.  Van.  You  know 
you  were  aware.  We  had  no  confidences.  I  was  obliged  to 
treat  you  like  a  child ;  but  for  you  to  pretend  to  suppose 
that  roses  grow  in  your  path  —  oh,  that  is  paltry !  You  are 
a  hypocrite  or  an  imbecile,  if  that  is  your  course." 

Was  he  not  something  of  the  former?  The  luxurious 
mist  in  which  he  had  been  living,  dispersed  before  his 
sister's  bitter  words,  and,  as  she  designed  he  should,  he  felt 
himself  her  accomplice.  But,  again,  reason  struggled  to 
enlighten  him ;  for  surely  he  would  never  have  done  a  thing 
so  disproportionate  to  the  end  to  be  gained!  It  was  the 
unconnected  action  of  his  brain  that  thus  advised  him.  No 
thoroughly-fashioned,  clear-spirited  man  conceives  wicked- 
ness impossible  to  him:  but  wickedness  so  largely  mixed 
with  folly,  the  best  of  us  may  reject  as  not  among  our 
temptations.  Evan,  since  his  love  had  dawned,  had  begun 
to  talk  with  his  own  nature,  and  though  he  knew  not  yet 
how  much  it  would  stretch  or  contract,  he  knew  that  he  was 
weak  and  could  not  perform  moral  wonders  without  severe 
struggles.  The  cynic  may  add,  if  he  likes  —  or  without 
potent  liquors. 

Could  he  be  his  sister's  judge  ?  It  is  dangerous  for  young 
men  to  be  too  good.  They  are  so  sweeping  in  their  condem- 
nations, so  sublime  in  their  conceptions  of  excellence,  and 
the  most  finished  Puritan  cannot  out-do  their  demands 
upon  frail  humanity.  Evan's  momentary  self-examination 
saved  him  from  this,  and  he  told  the  Countess,  with  a 
sort  of  cold  compassion,  that  he  himself  dared  not  blame 
her. 

His  tone  was  distinctly  wanting  in  admiration  of  her,  but 
she  was  somewhat  over-wrought,  and  leaned  her  shoulder 
against  him,  and  became  immediately  his  affectionate,  only 
too-zealous,  sister ;  dearly  to  be  loved,  to  be  forgiven,  to  be 
prized :  and  on  condition  of  inserting  a  special  petition  for 
pardon  in  her  orisons,  to  live  with  a  calm  conscience,  aad*  to 
be  allowed  to  have  her  own  way  with  him  during  the  rest  of 
her  days. 


THE  HERO  TAKES  HIS  RANK  IN  THE  ORCHESTRA     359 

It  was  a  happy  union  —  a  picture  that  the  Countess  was 
lured  to  admire  in  the  glass. 

Sad  that  so  small  a  murmur  should  destroy  it  for  ever ! 

"  What  ?  "  cried  the  Countess,  bursting  from  his  arm. 

"  Oo  9 "  she  emphasized  with  the  hardness  of  determined 
unbelief,  as  if  plucking  the  words,  one  by  one,  out  of  her 
reluctant  ears.  "  Go  to  Lady  Jocelyn,  and  tell  her  I  wrote 
the  letter  V 

"  You  can  do  no  less,  I  fear,"  said  Evan,  eyeing  the  floor 
and  breathing  a  deep  breath. 

"  Then  I  did  hear  you  correctly  ?  Oh,  you  must  be  mad 
—  idiotic !  There,  pray  go  away,  Evan.  Come  in  the  morn- 
ing.    You  are  too  much  for  my  nerves." 

Evan  rose,  putting  out  his  hand  as  if  to  take  hers  and 
plead  with  her.  She  rejected  the  first  motion,  and  repeated 
her  desire  for  him  to  leave  her ;  saying,  cheerfully : 

"  Good  night,  dear ;  I  dare  say  we  shan't  meet  till  the 
morning." 

"You  can't  let  this  injustice  continue  a  single  night, 
Louisa  ?  "  said  he. 

She  was  deep  in  the  business  of  arranging  a  portion  of 
her  attire. 

"  Go  —  go ;  please,"  she  responded. 

Lingering,  he  said :  "  If  I  go,  it  will  be  straight  to  Lady 
Jocelyn." 

She  stamped  angrily. 

"  Only  go ! "  and  then  she  found  him  gone,  and  she  stooped 
lower  to  the  glass,  to  mark  if  the  recent  agitation  were  ob» 
servable  under  her  eyes.  There,  looking  at  herself,  hei 
heart  dropped  heavily  in  her  bosom.  She  ran  to  the  dooi 
and  hurried  swiftly  after  Evan,  pulling  him  back  speech 
lessly. 

"  Where  are  you  going,  Evan  ?  " 

"  To  Lady  Jocelyn." 

The  unhappy  victim  of  her  devotion  stood  panting. 

"  If  you  go,  I  —  I  take  poison ! " 

It  was  for  him  now  to  be  struck ;  but  he  was  suffering 
too  strong  an  anguish  to  be  susceptible  to  mock  tragedy. 
The  Countess  paused  to  study  him.  She  began  to  fear  her 
brother.  "  I  will !  "  she  reiterated  wildly,  without  moving 
him  at  all.     And  the  quiet  inflexibility  of  his  face  forbade 


360  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

the  ultimate  hope  which  lies  in  giving  men  a  dose  of 
hysterics  when  they  are  obstinate.  She  tried  by  taunts 
and  angry  vituperations  to  make  him  look  fierce,  if  but  an 
instant,  to  precipitate  her  into  an  exhibition  she  was  so  well 
prepared  for. 

"  Evan !  what !  after  all  my  love,  my  confidence  in  you 
—  I  need  not  have  told  you  —  to  expose  us !  Brother  ? 
would  you  ?     Oh ! " 

"  I  will  not  let  this  last  another  hour,"  said  Evan,  firmly, 
at  the  same  time  seeking  to  caress  her.  She  spurned  his 
fruitless  affection,  feeling,  nevertheless,  how  cruel  was  her 
fate;  for,  with  any  other  save  a  brother,  she  had  arts  at 
her  disposal  to  melt  the  manliest  resolutions.  The  glass 
showed  her  that  her  face  was  pathetically  pale ;  the  tones 
of  her  voice  were  rich  and  harrowing.  What  did  they  avail 
with  a  brother  ? 

"Promise  me,"  she  cried  eagerly,  "promise  me  to  stop 
here  —  on  this  spot  —  till  I  return." 

The  promise  was  extracted.  The  Countess  went  to  fetch 
Caroline. 

Evan  did  not  count  the  minutes.  One  thought  was 
mounting  in  his  brain  —  the  scorn  of  Kose.  He  felt  that 
he  had  lost  her.  Lost  her  when  he  had  just  won  her !  He 
felt  it,  without  realizing  it.  The  first  blows  of  an  immense 
grief  are  dull,  and  strike  the  heart  through  wool,  as  it  were. 
The  belief  of  the  young  in  their  sorrow  has  to  be  flogged 
into  them,  on  the  good  old  educational  principle.  Could  he 
do  less  than  this  he  was  about  to  do  ?  Rose  had  wedded 
her  noble  nature  to  him,  and  it  was  as  much  her  spirit  as 
his  own  that  urged  him  thus  to  forfeit  her,  to  be  worthy  of 
her  by  assuming  unworthiness.  There  he  sat  neither  con- 
ning over  his  determination  nor  the  cause  for  it,  revolving 
Rose's  words  about  Laxley,  and  nothing  else.  The  words 
were  so  sweet  and  so  bitter ;  every  now  and  then  the  heavy 
smiting  on  his  heart  set  it  quivering  and  leaping,  as  the 
whip  starts  a  jaded  horse. 

Meantime  the  Countess  was  participating  in  a  witty  con- 
versation in  the  drawing-room  with  Sir  John  and  the  Duke, 
Miss  Current,  and  others ;  and  it  was  not  till  after  she  had 
displayed  many  graces,  and,  as  one  or  two  ladies  presumed 
to  consider,  marked  effrontery,  that  she  rose  and  drew  Caro- 


THE  HERO  TAKES  HIS  RANK  IN  THE  ORCHESTRA    361 

line  away  with  her.  Keturning  to  her  dressing-room,  she 
found  that  Evan  had  faithfully  kept  his  engagement;  he 
was  on  the  exact  spot  where  she  had  left  him. 

Caroline  came  to  him  swiftly,  and  put  her  hand  to  his 
forehead  that  she  might  the  better  peruse  his  features,  say- 
ing, in  her  mellow  caressing  voice:  "What  is  this,  dear 
Van,  that  you  will  do  ?    Why  do  you  look  so  wretched  ?  " 

"  Has  not  Louisa  told  you  ?  " 

"  She  has  told  me  something,  dear,  but  I  don't  know  what 
it  is.  That  you  are  going  to  expose  us?  What  further 
exposure  do  we  need  ?  I'm  sure.  Van,  my  pride  —  what  I 
had  —  is  gone.     I  have  none  left ! " 

Evan  kissed  her  brows  warmly.  An  explanation,  full  of 
the  Countess's  passionate  outcries  of  justification,  necessity, 
and  innocence  in  higher  than  fleshly  eyes,  was  given,  and 
then  the  three  were  silent. 

"  But,  Van,"  Caroline  commenced,  deprecatingly,  "  my 
darling !  of  what  use  —  now !  Whether  right  or  wrong,  why 
should  you,  why  should  you,  when  the  thing  is  done,  dear  ? 
—  think!" 

"  And  you,  too,  would  let  another  suffer  under  an  unjust 
accusation  ?  "  said  Evan. 

"But,  dearest,  it  is  surely  your  duty  to  think  of  your 
family  first.  Have  we  not  been  afflicted  enough?  Why 
should  you  lay  us  under  this  fresh  burden  ?  " 

"  Because  it's  better  to  bear  all  now  than  a  life  of  remorse," 
answered  Evan. 

"But  this  Mr.  Laxley  —  I  cannot  pity  him;  he  has 
behaved  so  insolently  to  you  throughout!  Let  him 
suffer." 

"Lady  Jocelyn,"  said  Evan,  "has  been  unintentionally 
unjust  to  him,  and  after  her  kindness  —  apart  from 
the  right  or  wrong  —  I  will  not  —  I  can't  allow  her  to 
continue  so." 

"  After  her  kindness ! "  echoed  the  Countess,  who  had  been 
fuming  at  Caroline's  weak  expostulations.  "  Kindness !  Have 
I  not  done  ten  times  for  these  Jocelyns  what  they  have  done 
for  us  ?  0  mio  Deus !  why,  I  have  bestowed  on  them  the 
membership  for  Fallowfield :  I  have  saved  her  from  being  a 
convicted  liar  this  very  day.  Worse !  for  what  would  have 
been  talked  of  the  morals  of  the  house,  supposing  the  scandal. 


362  EVAN  HAREINGTON 

Oh !  indeed  I  was  tempted  to  bring  that  horrid  mad  Captain 
into  the  house  face  to  face  with  his  flighty  doll  of  a  wife,  as 
I,  perhaps,  should  have  done,  acting  by  the  dictates  of  my 
conscience.  I  lied  to  Lady  Jocelyn,  and  handed  the  man  to 
a  lawyer,  who  withdrew  him.  And  this  they  owe  to  me ! 
Kindness  ?  They  have  given  us  bed  and  board,  as  the  peo- 
ple say.     I  have  repaid  them  for  that." 

"  Pray  be  silent,  Louisa,"  said  Evan,  getting  up  hastily, 
for  the  sick  sensation  Rose  had  experienced  came  over  him. 
His  sister's  plots,  her  untruth,  her  coarseness,  clung  to  him 
and  seemed  part  of  his  blood.  He  now  had  a  personal  desire 
to  cut  himself  loose  from  the  wretched  entanglement  revealed 
to  him,  whatever  it  cost. 

"  Are  you  really,  truly  going  ?  "  Caroline  exclaimed,  for 
he  was  near  the  door. 

"  At  a  quarter  to  twelve  at  night ! "  sneered  the  Countess, 
still  imagining  that  he,  like  herself,  must  be  partly  acting. 

"  But,  Van,  is  it  —  dearest,  think !  is  it  manly  for  a  brother 
to  go  and  tell  of  his  sister  ?     And  how  would  it  look  ?  " 

Evan  smiled.  "  Is  it  that  that  makes  you  unhappy  ? 
Louisa's  name  will  not  be  mentioned  —  be  sure  of  that." 

Caroline  was  stooping  forward  to  him.  Her  figure  straight- 
ened :  "  Good  heaven,  Evan !  you  are  not  going  to  take  it 
on  yourself  ?     Eose !  —  she  will  hate  you." 

"  God  help  me  ! "  he  cried  internally. 

"  Oh,  Evan,  darling !  consider,  reflect ! "  She  fell  on  her 
knees,  catching  his  hand.  "It  is  worse  for  us  that  you 
should  suffer,  dearest !  Think  of  the  dreadful  meanness  and 
baseness  of  what  you  will  have  to  acknowledge." 

"  Yes ! "  sighed  the  youth,  and  his  eyes,  in  his  extreme 
pain,  turned  to  the  Countess  reproachfully. 

"Think,  dear,"  Caroline  hurried  on,  "he  gains  nothing 
for  whom  you  do  this  —  you  lose  all.  It  is  not  your  deed. 
You  will  have  to  speak  an  untruth.  Your  ideas  are  wrong 
—  wrong,  I  know  they  are.  You  will  have  to  li«.  But  if 
you  are  silent,  the  little,  little  blame  that  may  attach  to  us 
will  pass  away,  and  we  shall  be  happy  in  seeing  our  brother 
happy." 

"  You  are  talking  to  Evan  as  if  he  had  religion,"  said  the 
Countess,  with  steady  sedateness.  And  at  that  moment, 
from  the  sublimity  of  his  pagan  virtue,  the  young  man 


THE  HERO  TAKES  HIS  RANK  IN  THE  ORCHESTRA    363 

groaned  for  some  pure  certain  light  to  guide  "him :  the  ques- 
tion whether  he  was  about  to  do  right  made  him  weak.  He 
took  Caroline's  head  between  his  two  hands,  and  kissed  her 
mouth.  The  act  brought  Rose  to  his  senses  insufferably, 
and  she  —  his  Goddess  of  truth  and  his  sole  guiding  light 
—  spurred  him  afresh. 

"  My  family's  dishonour  is  mine,  Caroline.  Say  nothing 
more  —  don't  think  of  me.  I  go  to  Lady  Jocelyn  to-night. 
To-morrow  we  leave,  and  there's  the  end.  Louisa,  if  you 
have  any  new  schemes  for  my  welfare,  I  beg  you  to  renounce 
them." 

"  Gratitude  I  never  expected  from  a  Dawley ! "  the  Count- 
ess retorted. 

"  Oh,  Louisa !  he  is  going !  "  cried  Caroline ;  "  kneel  to 
him  with  me :  stop  him :  Kose  loves  him,  and  he  is  going  to 
make  her  hate  him." 

"  You  can't  talk  reason  to  one  who's  mad,"  said  the  Count- 
ess, more  like  the  Dawley  she  sprang  from  than  it  would 
have  pleased  her  to  know. 

"  My  darling !  My  own  Evan !  it  will  kill  me,"  Caroline 
exclaimed,  and  passionately  imploring  him,  she  looked  so 
hopelessly  beautiful,  that  Evan  was  agitated,  and  caressed 
her,  while  he  said,  softly:  "Where  our  honour  is  not  in- 
volved I  would  submit  to  your  smallest  wish. " 

"  It  involves  my  life  —  my  destiny ! "  murmured  Caroline. 

Could  he  have  known  the  double  meaning  in  her  words, 
and  what  a  saving  this  sacrifice  of  his  was  to  accomplish,  he 
would  not  have  turned  to  do  it  feeling  abandoned  of  heaven 
and  earth. 

The  Countess  stood  rigidly  as  he  went  forth.  Caroline 
was  on  her  knees,  sobbing. 


364  EVAN  HABRINGTON 

CHAPTER  XXXIV 

A  PAGAN   SACKTFICE 

Three  steps  from  the  Countess's  chamber  door,  the  knot 
of  Evan's  resolution  began  to  slacken.  The  clear  light  of 
his  simple  duty  grew  cloudy  and  complex.  His  pride  would 
not  let  him  think  that  he  was  shrinking,  but  cried  out  in 
him,  "  Will  you  be  believed  ?  "  and  whispered  that  few  would 
believe  him  guilty  of  such  an  act.  Yet,  while  something 
said  that  full  surely  Lady  Jocelyn  would  not,  a  vague  dread 
that  Rose  might,  threw  him  back  on  the  luxury  of  her  love 
and  faith  in  him.  He  found  himself  hoping  that  his  state- 
ment would  be  laughed  at.      Then  why  make  it  ? 

No :  that  was  too  blind  a  hope.  Many  would  take  him  at 
his  word;  all  —  all  save  Lady  Jocelyn!  Rose  the  first! 
Because  he  stood  so  high  with  her  now  he  feared  the  fall. 
Ah,  dazzling  pinnacle !  our  darlings  shoot  us  up  on  a  won- 
drous juggler's  pole,  and  we  talk  familiarly  to  the  stars,  and 
are  so  much  above  everybody,  and  try  to  walk  like  creatures 
with  two  legs,  forgetting  that  we  have  but  a  pin's  point  to 
stand  on  up  there.  Probably  the  absence  of  natural  motion 
inspires  the  prophecy  that  we  must  ultimately  come  down : 
our  unused  legs  wax  morbidly  restless.  Evan  thought  it 
good  that  Rose  should  lift  her  head  to  look  at  him ;  never- 
theless, he  knew  that  Rose  would  turn  from  him  the  moment 
he  descended  from  his  superior  station.  Nature  is  wise  in 
her  young  children,  though  they  wot  not  of  it,  and  are 
always  trying  to  rush  away  from  her.  They  escape  their 
wits  sooner  than  their  instincts. 

But  was  not  Rose  involved  in  him,  and  part  of  him  ?  Had 
he  not  sworn  never  to  renounce  her  ?  What  was  this  but  a 
betrayal  ? 

Go  on,  young  man :  fight  your  fight.  The  little  imps 
pluck  at  you :  the  big  giant  assails  you :  the  seductions  of 
the  soft-mouthed  siren  are  not  wanting.  Slacken  the  knot 
an  instant,  and  they  will  all  have  play.  And  the  worst  is, 
that  you  may  be  wrong,  and  they  may  be  right !  For  is  it, 
can  it  be  proper  for  you  to  stain  the  silvery  whiteness  of 


A  PAGAN  SACRIFICE  865 

your  skin  by  plunging  headlong  into  yonder  pitch-bath? 
Consider  the  defilement !  Contemplate  your  hideous  aspect 
on  issuing  from  that  black  baptism ! 

As  to  the  honour  of  your  family,  Mr.  Evan  Harrington, 
pray,  of  what  sort  of  metal  consists  the  honour  of  a  tailor's 
family  ? 

One  little  impertinent  imp  ventured  upon  that  question 
on  his  own  account.  The  clever  beast  was  torn  back  and 
strangled  instantaneously  by  his  experienced  elders,  but  not 
before  Evan's  pride  had  answered  him.  Exalted  by  Love, 
he  could  dread  to  abase  himself  and  strip  off  his  glittering 
garments ;  lowered  by  the  world,  he  fell  back  upon  his  innate 
worth. 

Yes,  he  was  called  on  to  prove  it ;  he  was  on  his  way  to 
prove  it.  Surrendering  his  dearest  and  his  best,  casting 
aside  his  dreams,  his  desires,  his  aspirations,  for  this  stern 
duty,  he  at  least  would  know  that  he  made  himself  doubly 
worthy  of  her  who  abandoned  him,  and  the  world  would 
scorn  him  by  reason  of  his  absolute  merit.  Coming  to  this 
point,  the  knot  of  his  resolve  tightened  again;  he  hugged 
it  with  the  furious  zeal  of  a  martyr. 

Religion,  the  lack  of  which  in  him  the  Countess  deplored, 
would  have  guided  him  and  silenced  the  internal  strife. 
But  do  not  despise  a  virtue  purely  Pagan.  The  young  who 
can  act  readily  up  to  the  Christian  light  are  happier,  doubt- 
less :  but  they  are  led,  they  are  passive :  I  think  they  do 
not  make  such  capital  Christians  subsequently.  They  are 
never  in  such  danger,  we  know ;  but  some  in  the  flock  are 
more  than  sheep.  The  heathen  ideal  it  is  not  so  very  easy 
to  attain,  and  those  who  mount  from  it  to  the  Christian 
have,  in  my  humble  thought,  a  firmer  footing. 

So  Evan  fought  his  hard  fight  from  the  top  of  the  stairs 
to  the  bottom.  A  Pagan,  which  means  our  poor  unsup- 
ported flesh,  is  never  certain  of  his  victory.  Now  you  will 
see  him  kneeling  to  his  Gods,  and  anon  drubbing  them ;  or 
he  makes  them  fight  for  him,  and  is  complacent  at  the  issue. 
Evan  had  ceased  to  pick  his  knot  with  one  hand  and  pull 
it  with  the  other :  but  not  finding  Lady  Jocelyn  below,  and 
hearing  that  she  had  retired  for  the  night,  he  mounted  the 
stairs,  and  the  strife  recommenced  from  the  bottom  to  the 
top.     Strange  to  say,  he  was  almost  unaware  of  any  struggle 


366  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

going  on  within  him.  The  suggestion  of  the  foolish  little 
imp  alone  was  loud  in  the  heart  of  his  consciousness ;  the 
rest  hung  more  in  his  nerves  than  in  his  brain.  He  thought : 
"Well,  I  will  speak  it  out  to  her  in  the  morning;"  and 
thought  so  sincerely,  while  an  ominous  sigh  of  relief  at  the 
reprieve  rose  from  his  over-burdened  bosom. 

Hardly  had  the  weary  deep  breath  taken  flight,  when  the 
figure  of  Lady  Jocelyn  was  seen  advancing  along  the  cor- 
ridor, with  a  lamp  in  her  hand.  She  trod  heavily,  in  a  kind 
of  march,  as  her  habit  was ;  her  large  fully-open  grey  eyes 
looking  straight  ahead.  She  would  have  passed  him,  and 
he  wouJd  have  let  her  pass,  but  seeing  the  unusual  pallor  on 
her  face,  his  love  for  this  lady  moved  him  to  step  forward 
and  express  a  hope  that  she  had  no  present  cause  for  sorrow. 

Hearing  her  mother's  name.  Lady  Jocelyn  was  about  to 
return  a  conventional  answer.     Recognizing  Evan,  she  said : 

"  Ah !  Mr.  Harrington !  Yes,  I  fear  it's  as  bad  as  it  can 
be.     She  can  scarcely  outlive  the  night," 

Again  he  stood  alone :  his  chance  was  gone.  How  could 
he  speak  to  her  in  her  affliction  ?  Her  calm  sedate  visage 
had  the  beauty  of  its  youth,  when  lighted  by  the  animation 
that  attends  meetings  or  farewells.  In  her  bow  to  Evan,  he 
beheld  a  lovely  kindness  more  unique,  if  less  precious,  than, 
anything  he  had  ever  seen  on  the  face  of  Rose.  Half  ex- 
ultingly,  he  reflected  that  no  opportunity  would  be  allowed 
him  now  to  teach  that  noble  head  and  truest  of  human  hearts 
to  turn  from  him :  the  clear-eyed  morrow  would  come :  the 
days  of  the  future  would  be  as  bright  as  other  days ! 

Wrapped  in  the  comfort  of  his  cowardice,  he  started  to 
see  Lady  Jocelyn  advancing  to  him  again. 

"  Mr.  Harrington,"  she  said,  "  Rose  tells  me  you  leave  ua 
early  in  the  morning.  I  may  as  well  shake  your  hand  now. 
We  part  very  good  friends.  I  shall  always  be  glad  to  hear 
of  you." 

Evan  pressed  her  hand,  and  bowed.  "I  thank  you, 
madam,"  was  all  he  could  answer. 

"  It  will  be  better  if  you  don't  write  to  Rose." 

Her  tone  was  rather  that  of  a  request  than  an  injunction. 

"  I  have  no  right  to  do  so,  my  lady." 

"  She  considers  that  you  have :  I  wish  her  to  have  a  fair 
trial." 


A   PAGAN   SACRIFICE  867 

His  voice  quavered.  The  philosophic  lady  thought  it 
time  to  leave  him. 

"So  good-bye.  I  can  trust  you  without  extracting  a 
promise.  If  you  ever  have  need  of  a  friend,  you  know 
you  are  at  liberty  to  write  to  me." 

"You  are  tired,  my  lady  ?"  He  put  this  question  more 
to  dally  with  what  he  ought  to  be  saying. 

"Tolerably.  Your  sister,  the  Countess,  relieves  me  in 
the  night.  I  fancy  my  mother  finds  her  the  better  nurse 
of  the  two." 

Lady  Jocelyn's  face  lighted  in  its  gracious  pleasant  way, 
as  she  just  inclined  her  head:  but  the  mention  of  the 
Countess  and  her  attendance  on  Mrs.  Bonner  had  nerved 
Evan:  the  contrast  of  her  hypocrisy  and  vile  scheming 
with  this  most  open,  noble  nature,  acted  like  a  new  force 
within  him.  He  begged  Lady  Jocelyn's  permission  to 
speak  with  her  in  private*.  Marking  his  fervid  appearance, 
she  looked  at  him  seriously. 

"Is  it  really  important?" 

"I  cannot  rest,  madam,  till  it  is  spoken." 

"I  mean,  it  doesn't  pertain  to  the  delirium?  We  may 
sleep  upon  that." 

He  divined  her  sufficiently  to  answer:  "It  concerns  a 
piece  of  injustice  done  by  you,  madam,  and  which  I  can 
help  you  to  set  right." 

Lady  Jocelyn  stared  somewhat.  "Follow  me  into  my 
dressing-room,"  she  said,  and  led  the  way. 

Escape  was  no  longer  possible.  He  was  on  the  march  to 
execution,  and  into  the  darkness  of  his  brain  danced  John 
Raikes,  with  his  grotesque  tribulations.  It  was  the  harsh 
savour  of  reality  that  conjured  up  this  flighty  being,  who 
probably  never  felt  a  sorrow  or  a  duty.  The  farce  Jack 
lived  was  all  that  Evan's  tragic  bitterness  could  revolve, 
and  seemed  to  be  the  only  light  in  his  mind.  You  might 
have  seen  a  smile  on  his  mouth  when  he  was  ready  to  ask 
for  a  bolt  from  heaven  to  crush  him. 

"Now,"  said  her  ladyship,  and  he  found  that  the  four 
walls  enclosed  them,  "  what  have  I  been  doing?  " 

She  did  not  bid  him  be  seated.  Her  brevity  influenced 
him  to  speak  to  the  point. 

"  You  have  dismissed  Mr.Laxley,my  Jady :  he  is  innocent." 


368  EVAN  HAERINGTON 

"  How  do  you  know  that?  " 

"Because,"  —  a  whirl  of  sensations  beset  the  wretched 
youth, —  "because  I  am  guilty." 

His  words  had  run  ahead  of  his  wits ;  and  in  answer  to 
Lady  Jocelyn's  singular  exclamation  he  could  but  simply 
repeat  them. 

Her  head  drew  back;  her  face  was  slightly  raised;  she 
looked,  as  he  had  seen  her  sometimes  look  at  the  Countess, 
with  a  sort  of  speculative  amazement. 

"And  why  do  you  come  to  tell  me?" 

"For  the  reason  that  I  cannot  allow  you  to  be  unjust, 
madam." 

"  What  on  earth  was  your  motive?  " 

Evan  stood  silent,  flinching  from  her  frank  eyes. 

"  Well,  well,  well !  "  Her  ladyship  dropped  into  a  chair, 
and  thumped  her  knees. 

There  was  lawyer's  blood  in  Lady  Jocelyn's  veins:  she 
had  the  judicial  mind.  A  confession  was  to  her  a  confes- 
sion. She  tracked  actions  up  to  a  motive;  but  one  who 
came  voluntarily  to  confess  needed  no  sifting.  She  had  the 
habit  of  treating  things  spoken  as  facts. 

"  You  absolutely  wrote  that  letter  to  Mrs.  Evremonde's 
husband ! " 

Evan  bowed,  to  avoid  hearing  his  own  lie. 

"  You  discovered  his  address  and  wrote  to  him,  and  imi- 
tated Mr.  Laxley's  handwriting,  to  effect  the  purpose  you 
may  have  had?" 

Her  credulity  did  require  his  confirmation  of  it,  and  he 
repeated:  "It  is  my  deed." 

"  Hum!  And  you  sent  that  premonitory  slip  of  paper  to 
her?  " 

"To  Mrs.  Evremonde?" 

"Somebody  else  was  the  author  of  that,  perhaps?" 

"It  is  all  on  me." 

"In  that  case,  Mr.  Harrington,  I  can  only  say  that 
it's  quite  right  you  should  quit  this  house  to-morrow 
morning." 

Her  ladyship  commenced  rocking  in  her  chair,  and  then 
added:  "May  I  ask,  have  you  madness  in  your  family? 
No?  Because  when  one  can't  discern  a  motive,  it's  natu- 
ral to  ascribe  certain  acts  to  madness.      Had  Mrs.  Evre- 


A  PAGAN  SACRIFICE  369 

monde  offended  you?  or  Ferdinand  —  but  one  only  hears  of 
such  practices  towards  fortunate  rivals,  and  now  you  have 
come  to  undo  what  you  did!  I  must  admit,  that  taking  the 
monstrousness  of  the  act  and  the  inconsequence  of  your 
proceedings  together,  the  whole  affair  becomes  more  incom- 
prehensible to  me  than  it  was  before.  Would  it  be  un- 
pleasant to  you  to  favour  me  with  explanations?" 

She  saw  the  pain  her  question  gave  him,  and,  passing  it, 
said: 

"  Of  course  you  need  not  be  told  that  Rose  must  hear  of 
this?" 

"Yes,"  said  Evan,  "she  must  hear  it." 

"You  know  what  that's  equivalent  to?  But,  if  you  like, 
I  will  not  speak  to  her  till  you  have  left  us." 

"Instantly,"  cried  Evan.  "Now  —  to-night!  I  would 
not  have  her  live  a  minute  in  a  false  estimate  of  me." 

Had  Lady  Jocelyn's  intellect  been  as  penetrating  as  it 
was  masculine,  she  wou,ld  have  taken  him  and  turned  him 
inside  out  in  a  very  short  time ;  for  one  who  would  bear  to 
see  his  love  look  coldly  on  him  rather  than  endure  a  min- 
ute's false  estimate  of  his  character,  and  who  could  yet 
stoop  to  concoct  a  vile  plot,  must  either  be  mad  or  simulat- 
ing the  baseness  for  some  reason  or  other.  She  perceived 
no  motive  for  the  latter,  and  she  held  him  to  be  sound  in 
the  head,  and  what  was  spoken  from  the  mouth  she  accepted. 
Perhaps,  also,  she  saw  in  the  complication  thus  offered  an 
escape  for  Rose,  and  was  the  less  inclined  to  elucidate  it  her- 
self. But  if  her  intellect  was  baffled,  her  heart  was  unerr- 
ing. A  man  proved  guilty  of  writing  an  anonymous  letter 
would  not  have  been  allowed  to  stand  long  in  her  room. 
She  would  have  shown  him  to  the  door  of  the  house  speed- 
ily; and  Evan  was  aware  in  his  soul  that  he  had  not  fallen 
materially  in  her  esteem.  He  had  puzzled  and  confused 
her,  and  partly  because  she  had  the  feeling  that  this  young 
man  was  entirely  trustworthy,  and  because  she  never  relied 
on  her  feelings,  she  let  his  own  words  condemn  him,  and 
did  not  personally  discard  him.  In  fact,  she  was  a  veri- 
table philosopher.  She  permitted  her  fellows  to  move  the 
world  on  as  they  would,  and  had  no.  other  passions  in  the 
contemplation  of  the  show  than  a  cultured  audience  will 
usually  exhibit. 


370  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

•*  Strange,  —  most  strange !  I  thought  I  was  getting  old !  " 
she  said,  and  eyed  the  culprit  as  judges  generally  are  not 
wont  to  do.  "  It  will  be  a  shock  to  Rose.  I  must  tell  you 
that  I  can't  regret  it.  I  would  not  have  employed  force 
with  her,  but  I  should  have  given  her  as  strong  a  taste  of 
the  world  as  it  was  in  my  power  to  give.  Girls  get  their 
reason  from  society.  But,  come!  if  you  think  you  can 
make  your  case  out  better  to  her,  you  shall  speak  to  her 
first  yourself." 

"No,  my  lady,"  said  Evan,  softly. 

"  You  would  rather  not?  " 

"I  could  not." 

"But,  I  suppose,  she'll  want  to  speak  to  you  when  she 
knows  it." 

"I  can  take  death  from  her  hands,  but  I  cannot  slay 
myself." 

The  language  was  natural  to  his  condition,  though  the 
note  was  pitched  high.  Lady  Jocelyn  hummed  till  the 
sound  of  it  was  over,  and  an  idea  striking  her,  she  said: 

"Ah,  by  the  way,  have  you  any  tremendous  moral 
notions?" 

"I  don't  think  I  have,  madam." 

"  People  act  on  that  mania  sometimes,  /  believe.  Do  you 
think  it  an  outrage  on  decency  for  a  wife  to  run  away  from 
a  mad  husband  whom  they  won't  shut  up,  and  take  shelter 
with  a  friend?  Is  that  the  cause?  Mr.  Forth  is  an  old 
friend  of  mine^  I  would  trust  my  daughter  with  him  in  a 
desert,  and  stake  my  hand  on  his  honour." 

"  Oh,  Lady  Jocelyn !  "  cried  Evan.  "  Would  to  God  you 
might  ever  have  said  that  of  me !  Madam,  I  love  you.  I 
shall  never  see  you  again.  I  shall  never  meet  one  to  treat 
me  so  generously.  I  leave  you,  blackened  in  character  — 
you  cannot  think  of  me  without  contempt.  I  can  never 
hope  that  this  will  change.  But,  for  your  kindness  let  me 
thank  you." 

And  as  speech  is  poor  where  emotion  is  extreme  —  and 
he  knew  his  own  to  be  especially  so  —  he  took  her  hand 
with  petitioning  eyes,  and  dropping  on  one  knee,  reveren- 
tially kissed  it. 

Lady  Jocelyn  was  human  enough  to  like  to  be  appreci- 
ated.    She  was  a  veteran  Pagan,  and  may  have  had  the 


A  PAGAN   SACRIFICE  371 

mstinct  that  a  peculiar  virtue  in  this  young  one  was  the 
spring  of  his  conduct.  She  stood  up  and  said:  ** Don't 
forget  that  you  have  a  friend  here." 

The  poor  youth  had  to  turn  his  head  from  her. 

"  You  wish  that  I  should  tell  Rose  what  you  have  told 
me  at  once,  Mr.  Harrington?" 

"  Yes,  my  lady ;  I  beg  that  you  will  do  so." 

«  Well ! " 

And  the  queer  look  Lady  Jocelyn  had  been  wearing 
dimpled  into  absolute  wonder.  A  stranger  to  Love's  cun- 
ning, she  marvelled  why  he  should  desire  to  witness  the 
scorn  Rose  would  feel  for  him. 

"  If  she's  not  asleep,  then,  she  shall  hear  it  now,"  said  her 
ladyship.  "  You  \inderstand  that  it  will  be  mentioned  to  no 
other  person." 

"  Except  to  Mr.  Laxley,  madam,  to  whom  I  shall  offer  the 
satisfaction  he  may  require.     But  I  will  undertake  that." 

"  Just  as  you  think  proper  on  that  matter,"  remarked  her 
philosophical  ladyship,  who  held  that  man  was  a  fighting 
animal,  and  must  not  have  his  nature  repressed. 

She  lighted  him  part  of  the  way,  and  then  turned  off  to 
Rose's  chamber. 

Would  Rose  believe  it  of  him  ?  Love  combated  his  dis- 
mal foreboding.  Strangely,  too,  now  that  he  had  plunged 
into  his  pitch-bath,  the  guilt  seemed  to  cling  to  him,  and 
instead  of  hoping  serenely,  or  fearing  steadily,  his  spirit 
fell  in  a  kind  of  abject  supplication  to  Rose,  and  blindly 
trusted  that  she  would  still  love  even  if  she  believed  him 
base.  In  his  weakness  he  fell  so  low  as  to  pray  that  she 
might  love  that  crawling  reptile  who  could  creep  into  a 
house  and  shrink  from  no  vUeness  to  win  her. 


372  EVAN  HAERINGTON 

CHAPTER  XXXV 

ROSE   WOUNDED 

The  light  of  morning  was  yet  cold  along  the  passages  of 
the  house  when  Polly  Wheedle,  hurrying  to  her  young  mis- 
tress, met  her  loosely  dressed  and  with  a  troubled  face. 

"  What's  the  matter,  Polly  ?     I  was  coming  to  you." 

"  0,  Miss  Rose  !  and  I  was  coming  to  you.  Miss  Bonner's 
gone  back  to  her  convulsions  again.  She's  had  them  all 
night.  Her  hair  won't  last  till  thirty,  if  she  keeps  on 
giving  way  to  temper,  as  I  tell  her  :  and  I  know  that  from 
a  barber." 

"  Tush,  you  stupid  Polly !     Does  she  want  to  see  me  ?  " 

"You  needn't  suspect  that.  Miss.  But  you  quiet  her 
best,  and  I  thought  I'd  come  to  you.     But,  gracious  !  " 

Rose  pushed  past  her  without  vouchsafing  any  answer  to 
the  look  in  her  face,  and  turned  off  to  Juliana's  chamber, 
where  she  was  neither  welcomed  nor  repelled.  Juliana  said 
she  was  perfectly  well,  and  that  Polly  was  foolishly  officious : 
whereupon  Rose  ordered  Polly  out  of  the  room,  and  said  to 
Juliana,  kindly  :  "  You  have  not  slept,  dear,  and  I  have  not 
either.     I  am  so  unhappy." 

Whether  Rose  intended  by  this  communication  to  make 
Juliana  eagerly  attentive,  and  to  distract  her  from  her  own 
affair,  cannot  be  said,  but  something  of  the  effect  was 
produced. 

"  You  care  for  him,  too,"  cried  Rose,  impetuously.  "  Tell 
me,  Juley :  do  you  think  him  capable  of  any  base  action  ? 
Do  you  think  he  would  do  what  any  gentleman  would  be 
ashamed  to  own  ?     Tell  me." 

Juliana  looked  at  Rose  intently,  but  did  not  reply. 

Rose  jumped  up  from  the  bed.  "You  hesitate,  Juley? 
What  ?     Gould  you  think  so  ?  " 

Young  women  after  a  common  game  are  shrewd.  Juliana 
may  have  seen  that  Rose  was  not  steady  on  the  plank  she 
walked,  and  required  support. 

"I  don't  know,"  she  said,  turning  her  cheek  to  her 
pillow. 


ROSE    WOUNDED  373 

"  What  an  answer ! "  Kose  exclaimed.  "  Have  you  no 
opinion  ?  What  did  you  say  yesterday  ?  It's  silent  as  the 
grave  with  me :  but  if  you  do  care  for  him,  you  must  think 
one  thing  or  the  other." 

"  I  suppose  not,  then  —  no,"  said  Juliana. 

Repeating  the  languid  words  bitterly,  Rose  continued : 
"  What  is  it  to  love  without  having  faith  in  him  you  love  ? 
You  make  my  mind  easier." 

Juliana  caught  the  implied  taunt,  and  said,  fretfully: 
"I'm  ill.  You're  so  passionate.  You  don't  tell  me  what 
it  is.     How  can  I  answer  you  ?  " 

"  Never  mind,"  said  Rose,  moving  to  the  door,  wondering 
why  she  had  spoken  at  all :  but  when  Juliana  sprang  for- 
ward, and  caught  her  by  the  dress  to  stop  her,  and  with  a 
most  unwonted  outburst  of  affection,  begged  of  her  to  tell 
her  all,  the  wound  in  Rose's  breast  began  to  bleed,  and  she 
was  glad  to  speak. 

"  Juley,  do  you  —  can  you  believe  that  he  wrote  that  letter 
which  poor  Ferdinand  was  accused  of  writing  ?  " 

Juliana  appeared  to  muse,  and  then  responded:  "Why 
should  he  do  such  a  thing  ?  " 

"  0  my  goodness,  what  a  girl ! "  Rose  interjected. 

"Well,  then,  to  please  you,  Rose,  of  course  I  think  he  is 
too  honourable." 

"  You  do  think  so,  Juley  ?  But  if  he  himself  confessed  it 
—  what  then  ?     You  would  not  believe  him,  would  you  ?  " 

"  Oh,  then  I  can't  say.    Why  should  he  condemn  himself  ?  " 

"But  you  would  know  —  you  would  know  that  he  was  a 
man  to  suffer  death  rather  than  be  guilty  of  the  smallest 
baseness.  His  birth  —  what  is  that ! "  Rose  filliped  her 
fingers :  "  But  his  acts  —  what  he  is  himself  you  would  be 
sure  of,  would  you  not  ?  Dear  Juley !  Oh,  for  heaven's 
sake,  speak  out  plainly  to  me." 

A  wily  look  had  crept  over  Juliana's  features. 

"  Certainly,"  she  said,  in  a  tone  that  belied  it,  and  draw- 
ing Rose  to  her  bosom,  the  groan  she  heard  there  was  pass- 
ing sweet  to  her. 

"He  has  confessed  it  to  Mama,"  sobbed  Rose.  "Why  did 
he  not  come  to  me  first  ?  He  has  confessed  it  —  the  abomi- 
nable thing  has  come  out  of  his  own  mouth.  He  went  to 
her  last  night  .  .  .  ." 


374  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Juliana  patted  her  shoulders  regularly  as  they  heaved. 
"When  words  were  intelligible  between  them,  Juliana  said : 
"  At  least,  dear,  you  must  admit  that  he  has  redeemed  it." 

**  Redeemed  it  ?  Could  he  do  less  ?  "  Rose  dried  her 
eyes  vehemently,  as  if  the  tears  shamed  her.  "  A  man  who 
could  have  let  another  suffer  for  his  crime  —  I  could  never 
have  lifted  my  head  again.  I  think  I  would  have  cut  off 
this  hand  that  plighted  itself  to  him !  As  it  is,  I  hardly 
dare  look  at  myself.  But  you  don't  think  it,  dear  ?  You 
know  it  to  be  false  !  false !  false ! " 

"  Why  should  Mr.  Harrington  confess  it  ?  "  said  Juliana. 

"  Oh,  don't  speak  his  name ! "  cried  Rose. 

Her  cousin  smiled.  "  So  many  strange  things  happen," 
she  said,  and  sighed. 

"  Don't  sigh :  I  shall  think  you  believe  it ! "  cried  Rose. 

An  appearance  of  constrained  repose  was  assumed.  Rose 
glanced  up,  studied  for  an  instant,  and  breathlessly  uttered  : 
"  You  do,  you  do  believe  it,  Juley  ?  " 

For  answer,  Juliana  hugged  her  with  much  warmth,  and 
recommenced  the  patting. 

"  I  dare  say  it's  a  mistake,"  she  remarked.  "  He  may 
have  been  jealous  of  Ferdinand.  You  know  I  have  not  seen 
the  letter.  I  have  only  heard  of  it.  In  love,  they  say,  you 
ought  to  excuse  .  .  .  And  the  want  of  religious  educa- 
tion !     His  sister  .  .  .  ." 

Rose  interrupted  her  with  a  sharp  shudder.  Might  it  not 
be  possible  that  one  who  had  the  same  blood  as  the  Countess 
would  stoop  to  a  momentary  vileness  ? 

How  changed  was  Rose  from  the  haughty  damsel  of 
yesterday ! 

"Do  you  think  my  lover  could  tell  a  lie?"  "He  — 
would  not  love  me  long  if  /  did ! " 

These  phrases  arose  and  rang  in  Juliana's  ears  while  she 
pursued  the  task  of  comforting  the  broken  spirit  that  now 
lay  prone  on  the  bed,  and  now  impetuously  paced  the  room. 
Rose  had  come  thinking  the  moment  Juliana's  name  was 
mentioned,  that  here  was  the  one  to  fortify  her  faith  in 
Evan:  one  who,  because  she  loved,  could  not  doubt  him. 
She  moaned  in  a  terror  of  distrust,  loathing  her  cousin :  not 
asking  herself  why  she  needed  support.  And  indeed  she 
was  too  young  for  much  clear  self -questioning,  and  her  blood 


ROSE    WOUNDED  375 

was  flowing  too  quickly  for  her  brain  to  perceive  more  than 
one  thing  at  a  time. 

"  Does  your  mother  believe  it  ? "  said  Juliana,  evading 
a  direct  assault. 

"  Mama  ?  She  never  doubts  what  you  speak,"  answered 
Rose,  disconsolately. 

"  She  does  ?  " 

"Yes." 

Whereat  Juliana  looked  most  grave,  and  Eose  felt  that  it 
was  hard  to  breathe. 

She  had  grown  very  cold  and  calm,  and  Juliana  had  to  be 
expansive  unprovoked. 

"  Believe  nothing,  dear,  till  you  hear  it  from  his  own  lips. 
If  he  can  look  in  your  face  and  say  that  he  did  it  ...  . 
well,  then!  But  of  course  he  cannot.  It  must  be  some 
wonderful  piece  of  generosity  to  his  rival." 

"  So  I  thought,  Juley !  so  I  thought,"  cried  Rose,  at  the 
new  light,  and  Juliana  smiled  contemptuously,  and  the  light 
flickered  and  died,  and  all  was  darker  than  before  in  the 
bosom  of  Rose.  She  had  borne  so  much  that  this  new  drop 
was  poison. 

"  Of  course  it  must  be  that,  if  it  is  anything,"  Juliana  pur- 
sued. "  You  were  made  to  be  happy.  Rose.  And  consider, 
if  it  is  true,  people  of  very  low  birth,  till  they  have  lived 
long  with  other  people,  and  if  they  have  no  religion,  are  so 
very  likely  to  do  things.  You  do  not  judge  them  as  you  do 
real  gentlemen,  and  one  must  not  be  too  harsh  —  I  only  wish 
to  prepare  you  for  the  worst." 

A  dim  form  of  that  very  idea  had  passed  through  Rose, 
giving  her  small  comfort. 

"  Let  him  tell  you  with  his  own  lips  that  what  he  has  told 
your  mother  is  true,  and  then,  and  not  till  then,  believe  him," 
Juliana  concluded,  and  they  kissed  kindly,  and  separated. 
Rose  had  suddenly  lost  her  firm  step,  but  no  sooner  was 
Juliana  alone  than  she  left  the  bed,  and  addressed  her  visage 
to  the  glass  with  brightening  eyes,  as  one  who  saw  the 
glimmer  of  young  hope  therein. 

"  She  love  him !  Not  if  he  told  me  so  ten  thousand  times 
would  I  believe  it !  and  before  he  has  said  a  syllable  she 
doubts  him.  Asking  me  in  that  frantic  way !  as  if  I  couldn't 
see  that  she  wanted  me  to  help  her  to  her  faith  in  him,  as  she 


376  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

calls  it.    Not  name  his  name?    Mr.  Harrington!     I  may 
call  him  Evan :  some  day ! " 

Half-uttered,  half-mused,  the  unconscious  exclamations 
issued  from  her,  and  for  many  a  weary  day  since  she  had 
dreamed  of  love,  and  studied  that  which  is  said  to  attract  the 
creature,  she  had  not  been  so  glowingly  elated  or  looked  so 
much  farther  in  the  glass  than  its  pale  reflection. 


CHAPTER  XXXVI 

BEFORE   BBEAKFA8T 


Cold  through  the  night  the  dark-fringed  stream  had  whis- 
pered under  Evan's  eyes,  and  the  night  breeze  voiced  "  Fool, 
fool ! "  to  him,  not  without  a  distant  echo  in  his  heart.  By  sym- 
bols and  sensations  he  knew  that  Rose  was  lost  to  him.  There 
was  no  moon :  the  water  seemed  aimless,  passing  on  carelessly 
to  oblivion.  Now  and  then,  the  trees  stirred  and  talked,  or  a 
noise  was  heard  from  the  pastures.  He  had  slain  the  life  that 
lived  in  them,  and  the  great  glory  they  were  to  bring  forth,  and 
the  end  to  which  all  things  moved.  Had  less  than  the  loss  of 
Rose  been  involved,  the  young  man  might  have  found  him- 
self looking  out  on  a  world  beneath  notice,  and  have  been 
sighing  for  one  more  worthy  of  his  clouded  excellence :  but 
the  immense  misery  present  to  him  in  the  contemplation  of 
Rose's  sad  restrained  contempt,  saved  him  from  the  silly 
elation  which  is  the  last,  and  generally  successful,  struggle 
of  human  nature  in  those  who  can  so  far  master  it  to  commit 
a  sacrifice.  The  loss  of  that  brave  high  young  soul  —  Rose, 
who  had  lifted  him  out  of  the  mire  with  her  own  white 
hands  :  Rose,  the  image  of  all  that  he  worshipped :  Rose,  so 
closely  wedded  to  him  that  to  be  cut  away  from  her  was  to 
fall  like  pallid  clay  from  the  soaring  spirit:  surely  he  was 
stunned  and  senseless  when  he  went  to  utter  the  words  to  her 
mother !  Now  that  he  was  awake,  and  could  feel  his  self- 
inflicted  pain,  he  marvelled  at  his  rashness  and  foolishness, 
as  perhaps  numerous  mangled  warriors  have  done  for  a  time, 
when  the  battle-field  was  cool,  and  they  were  weak,  and  the 


BEFORE   BREAKFAST  377 

uproar  of  their  jarred  nerves  has  beset -them,  lying  uncher- 
ished. 

By  degrees  he  grew  aware  of  a  little  consolatory  touch, 
like  the  point  of  a  needle,  in  his  consciousness.  Laxley 
would  certainly  insult  him  !  In  that  case  he  would  not 
refuse  to  fight  him.  TL(  darkness  broke  and  revealed  this 
happy  prospect,  and  Evan  held  to  it  an  hour,  and  could 
hardly  reject  it  when  bettei  thoughts  conquered.  For  would 
it  not  be  sweet  to  make  the  streugtli  of  his  arm  respected  ? 
He  took  a  stick,  and  ran  his  eye  musingly  along  the  length, 
trifling  with  it  grimly.  The  great  Mel  had  been  his  son's 
instructor  in  the  chivalrous  science  of  fence,  and  a  mattre 
d'annes  in  Portugal  had  given  him  polish.  In  Mel's  time 
duels  with  swords  had  been  occasionally  fought,  and  Evan 
looked  on  the  sword  as  the  weapon  of  combat.  Face  to  face 
with  his  adversary  —  what  then  were  birth  or  position? 
Action !  —  action !  —  he  sighed  for  it,  as  I  have  done  since  I 
came  to  know  that  his  history  must  be  morally  developed.  A 
glow  of  bitter  pleasure  exalted  him  when,  after  hot  passages, 
and  parryings  and  thrusts,  he  had  disarmed  Ferdinand 
Laxley,  and  bestowing  on  him  his  life,  said :  "  Accept  this 
worthy  gift  of  the  son  of  a  tailor ! "  and  he  wiped  his  sword, 
haply  bound  up  his  wrist,  and  stalked  off  the  ground,  the 
vindicator  of  man's  natural  dignity.  And  then  he  turned 
upon  himself  with  laughter,  discovering  a  most  wholesome 
power,  barely  to  be  suspected  in  him  yet;  but  of  all  the 
children  of  glittering  Mel  and  his  solid  mate,  Evan  was  the 
best  mixed  compound  of  his  parents. 

He  put  the  stick  back  in  its  corner  and  eyed  his  wrist,  as 
if  he  had  really  just  gone  through  the  pretty  scene  he  had 
just  laughed  at.  It  was  nigh  upon  reality,  for  it  suggested 
the  employment  of  a  handkerchief,  and  he  went  to  a  place 
and  drew  forth  one  that  had  the  stain  of  his  blood  on  it,  and 
1  he  name  of  Rose  at  one  end.  The  beloved  name  was  half- 
blotted  by  the  dull-red  mark,  and  at  that  sight  a  strange 
tenderness  took  hold  of  Evan.  His  passions  became  dead 
and  of  old  date.  This,  then,  would  be  his  for  ever  !  Love, 
for  whom  earth  had  been  too  small,  crept  exultingly  into  a 
n\it,-shell.  He  clasped  the  treasure  on  his  breast,  and  saw 
a  life  beyond  his  parting  with  her. 

Strengthened  thus,  he  wrote  by  the  morning  light  to  Lax- 


378  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

ley.  The  letter  was  brief,  and  said  simply  that  the  act  of 
which  Laxley  had  been  accused,  Evan  Harrington  was  respon- 
sible for.  The  latter  expressed  regret  that  Laxley  should 
have  fallen  under  a  false  charge,  and,  at  the  same  time,  indi- 
cated that  if  Laxley  considered  himself  personally  aggrieved, 
the  writer  was  at  his  disposal. 

A  messenger  had  now  to  be  found  to  convey  it  to  the 
village-inn.  Footmen  were  stirring  about  the  house,  and  one 
meeting  Evan  close  by  his  door,  observed  with  demure  grin, 
that  he  could  not  find  the  gentleman's  nether-garments.  The 
gentleman,  it  appeared,  was  Mr.  John  Raikes,  who  according 
to  report,  had  been  furnished  with  a  bed  at  the  house,  be- 
cause of  a  discovery,  made  at  a  late  period  over-night,  that 
farther  the  gentleman  could  not  go.  Evan  found  him  sleep- 
ing soundly.  How  much  the  poor  youth  wanted  a  friend ! 
Fortune  had  given  him  instead  a  born  buffoon ;  and  it  is  per- 
haps the  greatest  evil  of  a  position  like  Evan's,  that,  with 
cultured  feelings,  you  are  likely  to  meet  with  none  to  know 
you.  Society  does  not  mix  well  in  money-pecking  spheres. 
Here,  however,  was  John  Raikes,  and  Evan  had  to  make  the 
best  of  him. 

«  Eh  ?  "  yawned  Jack,  awakened ;  "  I  was  dreaming  I  was 
Napoleon  Bonaparte's  right-hand  man." 

"  I  want  you  to  be  mine  for  half-an-hour,"  said  Evan. 

Without  replying,  the  distinguished  officer  jumped  out  of 
bed  at  a  bound,  mounted  a  chair,  and  peered  on  tip-toe  over 
the  top,  from  which,  with  a  glance  of  self-congratidation,  he 
pulled  the  missing  piece  of  apparel,  sighed  dejectedly,  as  he 
descended,  while  he  exclaimed : 

"  Safe !  but  no  distinction  can  compensate  a  man  for  this 
state  of  intolerable  suspicion  of  everybody.  I  assure  you, 
Harrington,  I  wouldn't  be  Napoleon  himself  —  and  I  have 
always  been  his  peculiar  admirer — to  live  and  be  afraid  of 
my  valet !  I  believe  it  will  develop  cancer  sooner  or  later  in 
me.  I  feel  singular  pains  already.  Last  night,  after  crown- 
ing champagne  with  ale,  which  produced  a  sort  of  French 
Revolution  in  my  interior  — by  the  way,  that  must  have  made 
me  dream  of  Napoleon !  —  last  night,  with  my  lower  members 
in  revolt  against  my  head,  I  had  to  sit  and  cogitate  for  hours 
on  a  hiding-place  for  these  —  call  them  what  you  will.  De- 
pend upon  it,  Harrington,  this  world  is  no  such  funny  affair 
as  we  fancy." 


BEFORE  BREAKFAST  379 

"  Then  it  is  true,  that  you  could  let  a  man  play  pranks  on 
you,"  said  Evan.     "  I  took  it  for  one  of  your  jokes." 

"Just  as  I  can't  believe  that  you're  a  tailor,"  returned 
Jack.     "  It's  not  a  bit  more  extraordinary." 

"  But,  Jack,  if  you  cause  yourself  to  be  contemptible " 

"  Contemptible  ! "  cried  Jack.  "  This  is  not  the  tone  I 
like.  "  Contemptible !  why  it's  my  eccentricity  among  my 
equals.  If  I  dread  the  profane  vulgar,  that  only  proves  that 
I'm  above  them.  Odi,  &c.  Besides,  Achilles  had  his  weak 
point,  and  egad,  it  was  when  he  faced  about !  By  Jingo !  I 
wish  I'd  had  that  idea  yesterday.  I  should  have  behaved 
better." 

Evan  could  see  that  the  creature  was  beginning  to  rely 
desperately  on  his  humour. 

"Come,"  he  said,  "be  a  man  to-day.  Throw  off  your 
motley.  When  I  met  you  that  night  so  oddly,  you  had  been 
acting  like  a  worthy  fellow,  trying  to  earn  your  bread  in  the 
best  way  you  could " 

"And  precisely  because  I  met  you,  of  all  men,  I've  been 
going  round  and  round  ever  since,"  said  Jack,  "  A  clown 
or  pantaloon  would  have  given  me  balance.  Say  no  more. 
You  couldn't  help  it.  We  met  because  we  were  the  two 
extremes." 

Sighing,  "  What  a  jolly  old  inn ! "  Eaikes  rolled  him- 
self over  in  the  sheets,  and  gave  two  or  three  snug  jolts 
indicative  of  his  determination  to  be  comfortable  while  he 
could. 

"  Do  you  intend  to  carry  on  this  folly.  Jack  ?  " 

"  Say,  sacrifice,"  was  the  answer.  "  I  feel  it  as  much  as 
you  possibly  could,  Mr.  Harrington.  Hear  the  facts,"  Jack 
turned  round  again.  "  Why  did  I  consent  to  this  absurdity  ? 
Because  of  my  ambition.  That  old  fellow,  whom  I  took  to 
be  a  clerk  of  Messrs.  Grist,  said :  '  You  want  to  cut  a  figure 
in  the  world  —  you're  armed  now.'  A  sort  of  Fortunatus's 
joke.  It  was  his  way  of  launching  me.  But  did  he  think  I 
intended  this  for  more  than  a  lift  ?  I  his  puppet  ?  He,  sir, 
was  my  tool !  Well,  I  came.  All  my  efforts  were  strained 
to  shorten  the  period  of  penance.  I  had  the  best  linen,  and 
put  on  captivating  manners.  I  should  undoubtedly  have  won 
some  girl  of  station,  and  cast  off  my  engagement  like  an  old 
suit,  but  just  mark!  —  now  mark  how  Fortune  tricks  us! 


380  EVAN  HAERINGTON 

After  the  pic-nic  yesterday,  the  domestics  of  the  house  came 
to  clear  away,  and  the  band  being  there,  I  stopped  them  and 
bade  them  tune  up,  and  at  the  same  time  seizing  the  maid 
Wheedle,  away  we  flew.  We  danced,  we  whirled,  we 
twirled.  Ale  upon  this !  My  head  was  lost.  '  Why  don't 
it  last  for  ever  ? '  says  I.  *  I  wish  it  did,'  says  she.  The 
na'iveti  enraptured  me.  '  Oooo ! '  I  cried,  hugging  her,  and 
then,  you  know,  there  was  no  course  open  to  a  man  of  honour 
but  to  offer  marriage  and  make  a  lady  of  her.  I  proposed : 
she  accepted  me,  and  here  I  am,  eternally  tied  to  this  accurst 
insignia,  if  I'm  to  keep  my  promise !  Isn't  that  a  sacrifice, 
friend  H.  ?  There's  no  course  open  to  me.  The  poor  girl  is 
madly  in  love.  She  called  me  a  '  rattle ! '  As  a  gentleman, 
I  cannot  recede." 

Evan  got  up  and  burst  into  damnable  laughter  at  this  bur- 
lesque of  himself.  Telling  the  fellow  the  service  he  required, 
and  receiving  a  groaning  assurance  that  the  letter  should, 
without  loss  of  time,  be  delivered  in  proper  style,  the  egoist, 
as  Jack  heartily  thought  him,  fell  behind  his  knitted  brows, 
and,  after  musing  abstractedly,  went  forth  to  light  upon  his 
fate. 

But  a  dread  of  meeting  had  seized  both  Eose  and  Evan. 
She  had  exhausted  her  first  sincerity  of  unbelief  in  her  inter- 
view with  Juliana:  and  he  had  begun  to  consider  what  he 
could  say  to  her.  More  than  the  three  words  "  I  did  it," 
would  not  be  possible ;  and  if  she  made  him  repeat  them, 
facing  her  truthful  eyes,  would  he  be  man  enough  to  strike 
her  bared  heart  twice  ?  And,  ah !  the  sullen  brute  he  must 
seem,  standing  before  her  dumb,  hearing  her  sigh,  seeing  her 
wretched  effort  not  to  show  how  unwillingly  her  kind  spirit 
despised  him.  The  reason  for  the  act  —  she  would  ask  for 
that !  Rose  would  not  be  so  philosophic  as  her  mother.  She 
would  grasp  at  every  chance  to  excuse  the  deed.  He  cried 
out  against  his  scheming  sister  in  an  agony,  and  while  he  did 
so,  encountered  Miss  Carrington  and  Miss  Bonner  in  deep 
converse.  Juliana  pinched  her  arm,  whereupon  Miss  Carring- 
ton said :  "  You  look  merry  this  morning,  Mr.  Harrington :  " 
for  he  was  unawares  smiling  at  the  image  of  himself  in  the 
mirror  of  John  Raikes.  That  smile,  transformed  to  a  chuck- 
ling grimace,  travelled  to  Rose  before  they  met. 

Why  did  she  not  come  to  him  ? 


BEFORE  BREAKFAST  381 

A  soft  voice  at  his  elbow  made  his  blood  stop.  It  was 
Caroline.  She  kissed  him,  answering  his  greeting:  "Is  it 
good  morning?" 

"Certainly,"  said  he.  "By  the  way,  don't  forget  that 
the  coach  leaves  early." 

"  My  darling  Evan !  you  make  me  so  happy.  For  it  was 
really  a  mistaken  sense  of  honour.  For  what  can  at  all 
excuse  a  falsehood,  you  know,  Evan ! " 

Caroline  took  his  arm,  and  led  him  into  the  sun,  watching 
his  face  at  times.  Presently  she  said:  "I  want  just  to  be 
assured  that  you  thought  more  wisely  than  when  you  left 
us  last  night." 

"  More  wisely  ? "  Evan  turned  to  her  with  a  playful 
smile. 

"  My  dear  brother !  you  did  not  do  what  you  said  you 
would  do?" 

"  Have  you  ever  known  me  not  to  do  what  I  said  I  would 
do  ?  " 

"  Evan !  Good  heaven !  you  did  it  ?  Then  how  can  you 
remain  here  an  instant  ?     Oh,  no,  no !  —  say  no,  darling ! " 

"  Where  is  Louisa  ?  "  he  inquired. 

"  She  is  in  her  room.  She  will  never  appear  at  breakfast, 
if  she  knows  this." 

"  Perhaps  more  solitude  would  do  her  good,"  said  Evan. 

"Remember,  if  this  should  prove  true,  think  how  you 
punish  her ! " 

On  that  point  Evan  had  his  own  opinion. 

"  Well,  I  shall  never  have  to  punish  you  in  this  way,  my 
love,"  he  said  fondly,  and  Caroline  dropped  her  eyelids. 

"  Don't  think  that  I  am  blaming  her,"  he  added,  trying  to 
feel  as  honestly  as  he  spoke.  "  I  was  mad  to  come  here.  I 
see  it  all  now.  Let  us  keep  to  our  place.  We  are  all  the 
same  before  God  till  we  disgrace  ourselves." 

Possibly  with  that  sense  of  shame  which  some  young 
people  have  who  are  not  professors  of  sounding  sentences, 
or  affected  by  missionary  zeal,  when  they  venture  to  breathe 
the  holy  name,  Evan  blushed,  and  walked  on  humbly  silent. 
Caroline  murmured :  "  Yes,  yes !  oh,  brother ! "  and  her 
figure  drew  to  him  as  if  for  protection.     Pale,  she  looked  up. 

"  Shall  you  always  love  me,  Evan  ?  " 

"  Whom  else  have  I  to  love  ?  " 


382  EVAN  HARKINQTOK 

"  But  always  —  always  ?     Under  any  circumstances  ?  " 

"  More  and  more,  dear.  I  always  have,  and  shall.  I  look 
to  you  now.     I  have  no  home  but  in  your  heart  now," 

She  was  agitated,  and  he  spoke  warmly  to  calm  her. 

The  throb  of  deep  emotion  rang  in  her  rich  voice.  "  I 
will  live  any  life  to  be  worthy  of  your  love,  Evan,"  and  she 
wept. 

To  him  they  were  words  and  tears  without  a  history. 

Nothing  further  passed  between  them.  Caroline  went  to 
the  Countess :  Evan  waited  for  Rose.  The  sun  was  getting 
high.  The  face  of  the  stream  glowed  like  metal.  Why  did 
she  not  come  ?  She  believed  him  guilty  from  the  mouth  of 
another  ?  If  so,  there  was  something  less  for  him  to  lose. 
And  now  the  sacrifice  he  had  made  did  whisper  a  tale  of 
mortal  magnificence  in  his  ears :  feelings  that  were  not  his 
noblest  stood  up  exalted.  He  waited  till  the  warm  meadow- 
breath  floating  past  told  that  the  day  had  settled  into  heat, 
and  then  he  waited  no  more,  but  quietly  walked  into  the 
house  with  the  strength  of  one  who  has  conquered  more 
than  human  scorn. 


CHAPTER  XXXVII 

THE  RETREAT  FROM  BECKLEY 

Never  would  the  Countess  believe  that  brother  of  hers, 
idiot  as  by  nature  he  might  be,  and  heir  to  unnumbered 
epithets,  would  so  far  forget  what  she  had  done  for  him,  as 
to  drag  her  through  the  mud  for  nothing :  and  so  she  told 
Caroline  again  and  again,  vehemently. 

It  was  about  ten  minutes  before  the  time  for  descending  to 
the  breakfast-table.  She  was  dressed,  and  sat  before  the 
glass,  smoothing  her  hair,  and  applying  the  contents  of  a  pot 
of  cold  cream  to  her  forehead  betweenwhiles.  With  perfect 
sincerity  she  repeated  that  she  could  not  believe  it.  She  had 
only  trusted  Evan  once  since  their  visit  to  Beckley ;  and  that 
this  once  he  should,  when  treated  as  a  man,  turn  traitor  to 
their  common  interests,  and  prove  himself  an  utter  baby,  was 


THE  RETEEAT  FROM  BECKLEY        383 

a  piece  of  nonsense  her  great  intelligence  indignantly  re- 
jected. 

"  Then,  if  true,"  she  answered  Caroline's  assurances  finally, 
"  if  true,  he  is  not  his  father's  son ! " 

By  which  it  may  be  seen  that  she  had  indeed  taken  refuge 
in  the  Castle  of  Negation  against  the  whole  army  of  facts. 

"He  is  acting.  Carry.  He  is  acting  the  ideas  of  his 
ridiculous  empty  noddle ! " 

"No,"  said  Caroline,  mournfully,  "he  is  not.  I  have 
never  known  Evan  to  lie." 

"  Then  you  must  forget  the  whipping  he  once  had  from 
his  mother  —  little  dolt !  little  selfish  pig !  He  obtains  his 
reputation  entirely  from  his  abominable  selfishness,  and  then 
stands  tall,  and  asks  us  to  admire  him.  •  He  bursts  with 
vanity.  But  if  you  lend  your  credence  to  it.  Carry,  how,  in 
the  name  of  goodness,  are  you  to  appear  at  the  breakfast  ?  " 

"  I  was  going  to  ask  you  whether  you  would  come,"  said 
Caroline,  coldly. 

"  If  I  can  get  my  hair  to  lie  flat  by  any  means  at  all,  of 
course ! "  returned  the  Countess.  "  This  dreadful  horrid 
country  pomade !  Why  did  we  not  bring  a  larger  stock  of 
the  AndaluQian  Regenerator  ?  Upon  my  honour,  my  dear, 
you  use  a  most  enormous  quantity ;  I  must  really  tell  you 
that." 

Conning  here  entered  to  say  that  Mr.  Evan  had  given 
orders  for  the  boxes  to  be  packed  and  everything  got  ready 
to  depart  by  half-past  eleven  o'clock,  when  the  fly  would  call 
for  them  and  convey  them  to  Fallowfield  in  time  to  meet  the 
coach  for  London. 

The  Countess  turned  her  head  round  to  Caroline  like  an 
astonished  automaton. 

"  Given  orders  ! "  she  interjected. 

"  I  have  very  little  to  get  ready,"  remarked  Caroline. 

"  Be  so  good  as  to  wait  outside  the  door  one  instant,"  said 
the  Countess  to  Conning,  with  particular  urbanity. 

Conning  heard  a  great  deal  of  vigorous  whispering  within, 
and  when  summoned  to  re-appear,  a  note  was  handed  to  her 
to  convey  to  Mr.  Harrington  immediately.  He  was  on  the 
lawn ;  read  it,  and  wrote  back  three  hasty  lines  in  pencil. 

"  Louisa.  You  have  my  commands  to  quit  this  house,  at 
the  hour  named,  this  day.     You  will  go  with  me.     E.  H." 


384  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Conning  was  again  requested  to  wait  outside  the  Count- 
ess's door.  She  was  the  bearer  of  another  note.  Evan 
read  it  likewise;  tore  it  up,  and  said  that  there  was  no 
answer. 

The  Castle  of  Negation  held  out  no  longer.  Ruthless 
battalions  poured  over  the  walls,  blew  up  the  Countess's 
propriety,  made  frightful  ravages  in  her  complexion.  Down 
fell  her  hair. 

"  You  cannot  possibly  go  to  breakfast,"  said  Caroline. 

"  I  must !  I  must !  "  cried  the  Countess.  "  Why,  my  dear, 
if  he  has  done  it  —  wretched  creature !  don't  you  perceive 
that,  by  withholding  our  presences,  we  become  implicated 
with  him  ?  "  And  the  Countess,  from  a  burst  of  frenzy,  put 
this  practical  question  so  shrewdly,  that  Caroline's  wits  suc- 
cumbed to  her. 

"  But  he  has  not  done  it ;  he  is  acting ! "  she  pursued, 
restraining  her  precious  tears  for  higher  purposes,  as  only 
true  heroines  can.  "Thinks  to  frighten  me  into  submis- 
sion ! " 

"  Do  you  not  think  Evan  is  right  in  wishing  us  to  leave, 
after  —  after  —  "  Caroline  humbly  suggested. 

"Say,  before  my  venerable  friend  has  departed  this  life," 
the  Countess  took  her  up.  "  No,  I  do  not.  If  he  is  a  fool, 
I  am  not.  No,  Carry:  I  do  not  jump  into  ditches  for 
nothing.  I  will  have  something  tangible  for  all  that  I  have 
endured.  We  are  now  tailors  in  this  place,  remember.  If 
that  stigma  is  affixed  to  us,  let  us  at  least  be  remunerated 
for  it.     Come." 

Caroline's  own  hard  struggle  demanded  all  her  strength: 
yet  she  appeared  to  hesitate.  "  You  will  surely  not  disobey 
Evan,  Louisa?" 

"  Disobey?  "  The  Countess  amazedly  dislocated  the  syl- 
lables. "Why,  the  boy  will  be  telling  you  next  that  he 
will  not  permit  the  Duke  to  visit  you !  Just  your  English 
order  of  mind,  that  cannot  —  brutes!  —  conceive  of  friend- 
ship between  high-born  men  and  beautiful  women.  Beau- 
tiful as  you  truly  are,  Carry,  five  years  more  will  tell  on 
you.  But  perhaps  my  dearest  is  in  a  hurry  to  return  to  her 
Maxwell?    At  least  he  thwacks  well!  " 

Caroline's  arm  was  taken.  The  Countess  loved  an  occa- 
sional rhyme  when  a  point  was  to  be  made,  and  went  o£E 


THE  RETREAT  FROM  BECKLEf        385 

nodding  and  tripping  till  the  time  for  stateliness  arrived, 
near  the  breakfast-room  door.  She  indeed  was  acting.  At 
the  bottom  of  her  heart  there  was  a  dismal  rage  of  passions : 
hatred  of  those  who  would  or  might  look  tailor  in  her  face : 
terrors  concerning  the  possible  re-visitation  of  the  vengeful 
Sir  Abraham :  dread  of  Evan  and  the  efforts  to  despise  him : 
the  shocks  of  many  conflicting  elements.  Above  it  all  her 
countenance  was  calmly,  sadly  sweet :  even  as  you  may  be- 
hold some  majestic  lighthouse  glimmering  over  the  tumult 
of  a  midnight  sea. 

An  unusual  assemblage  honoured  the  breakfast  that  morn- 
ing. The  news  of  Mrs.  Bonner's  health  was  more  favour- 
able. How  delighted  was  the  Countess  to  hear  that!  Mrs. 
Bonner  was  the  only  firm  ground  she  stood  on  there,  and 
after  receiving  and  giving  gentle  salutes,  she  talked  of  Mrs. 
Bonner,  and  her  night-watch  by  the  sick  bed,  in  a  spirit  of 
doleful  hope.  This  passed  off  the  moments  till  she  could 
settle  herself  to  study  faces.  Decidedly,  every  lady  present 
looked  glum,  with  the  single  exception  of  Miss  Current. 
Evan  was  by  Lady  Jocelyn's  side.  Her  ladyship  spoke  to 
him ;  but  the  Countess  observed  that  no  one  else  did.  To 
herself,  however,  the  gentlemen  were  as  attentive  as  ever. 
Evan  sat  three  chairs  distant  from  her. 

If  the  traitor  expected  his  sister  to  share  in  his  disgrace, 
by  noticing  him,  he  was  in  error.  On  the  contrary,  the 
Countess  joined  the  conspiracy  to  exclude  him,  and  would 
stop  a  mild  laugh  if  perchance  he  looked  up.  Presently 
Rose  entered.  She  said  "  Good  morning  "  to  one  or  two, 
and  glided  into  a  seat. 

That  Evan  was  under  Lady  Jocelyn's  protection  soon 
became  generally  apparent,  and  also  that  her  ladyship  was 
angry :  an  exhibition  so  rare  with  her  that  it  was  the  more 
remarked.  Rose  could  see  that  she  was  a  culprit  in  her 
mother's  eyes.  She  glanced  from  Evan  to  her.  Lady 
Jocelyn's  mouth  shut  hard.  The  girl's  senses  then  per- 
ceived the  something  that  was  afloat  at  the  table;  she 
thought  with  a  pang  of  horror:  "Has  Juliana  told?* 
Juliana  smiled  on  her;,  but  the  aspect  of  Mrs.  Shorne,  an^ 
of  Miss  Carrington,  spoke  for  their  knowledge  of  that  which 
must  henceforth  be  the  perpetual  reproof  to  her  headstrong 
youth. 


386  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

"At  what  hour  do  you  leave  us?"  said  Lady  Jocelyn  to 
Evan.  • 

"  When  I  leave  the  table,  my  lady.  The  fly  will  call  for 
my  sisters  at  half -past  eleven." 

"There  is  no  necessity  for  you  to  start  in  advance?" 

"I  am  going  over  to  see  my  mother." 

Rose  burned  to  speak  to  him  now.  Oh!  why  had  she 
delayed !  Why  had  she  swerved.f rom  her  good  rule  of  open, 
instant  explanations?  But  Evan's  heart  was  stern  to  his 
love.  Not  only  had  she,  by  not  coming,  shown  her  doubt 
of  him,  —  she  had  betrayed  him! 

Between  the  Countess,  Melville,  Sir  John,  and  the  Duke, 
an  animated  dialogue  was  going  on,  over  which  Miss  Cur- 
rent played  like  a  lively  iris.  They  could  not  part  with 
the  Countess.  Melville  said  he  should  be  left  stranded,  and 
numerous  pretty  things  were  uttered  by  other  gentlemen; 
by  the  women  not  a  word.  Glancing  from  certain  of  them 
lingeringly  to  her  admirers,  the  Countess  smiled  her  thanks, 
and  then  Andrew,  pressed  to  remain,  said  he  was  willing 
and  happy,  and  so  forth;  and  it  seemed  that  her  admirers 
had  prevailed  over  her  reluctance,  for  the  Countess  ended 
her  little  protests  with  a  vanquished  bow.  Then  there  was 
a  gradual  rising  from  table.  Evan  pressed  Lady  Jocelyn's 
hand,  and  turning  from  her  bent  his  head  to  Sir  Franks, 
who,  without  offering  an  exchange  of  cordialities,  said,  at 
arm's  length:  "Good-bye,  sir.''  Melville  also  gave  him 
that  greeting  stiffly.  Harry  was  perceived  to  rush  to  the 
other  end  of  the  room,  in  quest  of  a  fly  apparently.  Poor 
Caroline's  heart  ached  for  her  brother,  to  see  him  standing 
there  in  the  shadow  of  many  faces.  But  he  was  not  left  to 
stand  alone.  Andrew  quitted  the  circle  of  Sir  John,  Sey- 
mour Jocelyn,  Mr.  George  Uploft,  and  others,  and  linked 
his  arm  to  Evan's.  Rose  had  gone.  While  Evan  looked 
for  her  despairingly  to  say  his  last  word  and  hear  her  voice 
once  more.  Sir  Franks  said  to  his  wife  ; 

"See  that  Rose  keeps  up-stairs." 

"I  want  to  speak  to  her,"  was  her  ladyship's  answer,  and 
she  moved  to  the  door. 

Evan  made  way  for  her,  bowing. 

"You  will  be  ready  at  half -past  eleven,  Louisa,"  he  said, 
with  calm  distinctness,  and  passed  from  that  purgatory. 


THE  RETREAT  FROM  BECKLEY        387 

Now  honest  Andrew  attributed  the  treatment  Evan  met 
with  to  the  oxposure  of  yesterday.  He  was  frantic  with 
democratic  disgust. 

"Why  the  devil  don't  they  serve  me  like  that,  eh? 
'Cause  I  got  a  few  coppers!  There,  Van!  I'm  a  man  of 
peace;  but  if  you'll  call  any  man  of  'em  out  I'll  stand  your 
second  —  'pon  my  soul,  I  will.  They  must  be  cowards,  so 
there  isn't  much  to  fear.  Confound  the  fellows,  I  tell  'em 
every  day  I'm  the  son  of  a  cobbler,  and  egad,  they  grow 
civiller.  What  do  they  mean?  Are  cobblers  ranked  over 
tailors?" 

"Perhaps  that's  it,"  said  Evan. 

"  Hang  your  gentlemen ! "  Andrew  cried. 

"Let  us  have  breakfast  first,"  uttered  a  melancholy  voice 
near  them  in  the  passage. 

"Jack!  "  said  Evan.     "Where  have  you  been?" 

"  I  didn't  know  the  breakfast-room,"  Jack  returned,  "and 
the  fact  is,  my  spirits  are  so  down,  I  couldn't  muster  up 
courage  to  ask  one  of  the  footmen.  I  delivered  your  letter. 
Nothing  hostile  took  place.  I  bowed  fiercely  to  let  him 
know  what  he  might  expect.  That  generally  stops  it. 
You  see,  I  talk  prose.     I  shall  never  talk  anything  else !  " 

Andrew  recommenced  his  jests  of  yesterday  with  Jack. 
The  latter  bore  them  patiently,  as  one  who  had  endured 
worse. 

"  She  has  rejected  me !  "  he  whispered  to  Evan.  "  Talk 
of  the  ingratitude  of  women !  Ten  minutes  ago  I  met  her. 
She  perked  her  eyebrows  at  me!  —  tried  to  run  away. 
'Miss  Wheedle: '  I  said.  'If  you  please,  I'd  rather  not,' 
says  she.  To  cut  it  short,  the  sacrifice  I  made  to  her  was 
the  cause.  It's  all  over  the  house.  She  gave  the  most 
excruciating  hint.  Those  low-born  females  are  so  horribly 
indelicate.     I  stood  confounded." 

Commending  his  new  humour,  Evan  persuaded  him  to 
breakfast  immediately,  and  hunger  being  one  of  Jack's 
solitary  incitements  to  a  sensible  course  of  conduct,  the 
disconsolate  gentleman  followed  its.  dictates.  "Go  with 
him,  Andrew,"  said  Evan.  "He  is  here  as  my  friend,  and 
may  be  made  uncomfortable." 

"Yes,  yes, — ha!  ha!  I'll  follow  the  poor  chap,"  said 
Andrew.     "  But  what  is  it  all  about?    Louisa  won't  go,  you 


388  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

know.  Has  the  girl  given  you  up  because  she  saw  your 
mother,  Van?  I  thought  it  was  all  right.  Why  the  deuce 
are  you  running  away?" 

"  Because  I've  just  seen  that  I  ought  never  to  have  come, 
I  suppose,"  Evan  replied,  controlling  the  wretched  heaving 
of  his  chest. 

"But  Louisa  won^t  go.  Van." 

"  Understand,  my  dear  Andrew,  that  I  know  it  to  be  quite 
imperative.  Be  ready  yourself  with  Caroline.  Louisa  will 
then  make  her  choice.  Pray  help  me  in  this.  We  must 
not  stay  a  minute  more  than  is  necessary  in  this  house." 

"It's  an  awful  duty,"  breathed  Andrew,  after  a  pause. 
"  I  see  nothing  but  hot  water  at  home.  Why  —  but  it's 
no  use  asking  questions.  My  love  to  your  mother.  I  say, 
Van, —  now  isn't  Lady  Jocelyn  a  trump?" 

"  God  bless  her ! "  said  Evan.  And  the  moisture  in 
Andrew's  eyes  affected  his  own. 

"She's  the  staunchest  piece  of  woman-goods  I  ever 

I  know  a  hundred  cases  of  her ! " 

"I  know  one,  and  that's  enough,"  said  Evan. 

Not  a  sign  of  Rose !  Can  Love  die  without  its  dear  fare- 
well on  which  it  feeds,  away  from  the  light,  dying  by  bits? 
In  Evan's  heart  Love  seemed  to  die,  and  all  the  pangs  of  a 
death  were  there  as  he  trod  along  the  gravel  and  stepped 
beneath  the  gates  of  Beckley  Court. 

Meantime  the  gallant  Countess  was  not  in  any  way  dis- 
posed to  retreat  on  account  of  Evan's  defection.  The 
behaviour  toward  him  at  the  breakfast-table  proved  to  her 
that  he  had  absolutely  committed  his  egregious  folly,  and 
as  no  General  can  have  concert  with  a  fool,  she  cut  him  off 
from  her  affections  resolutely.  Her  manifest  disdain  at 
his  last  speech,  said  as  much  to  everybody  present.  Be- 
sides, the  lady  was  in  her  element  here,  and  compulsion  is 
required  to  make  us  relinquish  our  element.  Lady  Jocelyn 
certainly  had  not  expressly  begged  of  her  to  remain :  the 
Countess  told  Melville  so,  who  said  that  if  she  required 
such  an  invitation  she  should  have  it,  but  that  a  guest  to 
whom  they  were  so  much  indebted,  was  bound  to  spare  them 
these  formalities. 

"What  am  I  to  do?" 

The  Countess  turned  piteously  to  the  diplomatist's  wife. 


THE  RETKEAT  FROM  BECKLEY        389 

She  answered,  retiringly:  "Indeed  I  cannot  say." 

Upon  this,  the  Countess  accepted  Melville's  arm,  and  had 
some  thoughts  of  punishing  the  woman. 

They  were  seen  parading  the  lawn.  Mr.  George  Uploft 
chuckled  singularly. 

"  Just  the  old  style,"  he  remarked,  but  corrected  the  inad- 
vertence with  a  "  hem !  "  committing  himself  more  shame- 
fully the  instant  after.  "  I'll  wager  she  has  the  old  Dip. 
down  on  his  knees  before  she  cuts." 

"Bet  can't  be  taken,"  observed  Sir  John  Loring.  "It 
requires  a  spy." 

Harry,  however,  had  heard  the  remark,  and  because  he 
wished  to  speak  to  her,  let  us  hope,  and  reproach  her  for 
certain  things  when  she  chose  to  be  disengaged,  he  likewise 
sallied  out,  being  forlorn  as  a  youth  whose  sweet  vanity  is 
much  hurt. 

The  Duke  had  paired  off  with  Mrs.  Strike.  The  lawn 
was  fair  in  sunlight  where  they  walked.  The  air  was  rich 
with  harvest  smells,  and  the  scent  of  autumnal  roses.  Caro- 
line was  by  nature  luxurious  and  soft.  The  thought  of  that 
drilled  figure  to  which  she  was  returning  in  bondage,  may 
have  thrown  into  bright  relief  the  polished  and  gracious 
nobleman  who  walked  by  her  side,  shadowing  forth  the 
chances  of  a  splendid  freedom.  Two  lovely  tears  fell  from 
her  eyes.     The  Duke  watched  them  quietly. 

"Do  you  know,  they  make  me  jealous?"  he  said. 

Caroline  answered  him  with  a  faint  smile. 

"Eeassure  me,  my  dear  lady;  you  are  not  going  witli 
your  brother  this  morning?  " 

"  Your  Grace,  I  have  no  choice !  " 

"May  I  speak  to  you  as  your  warmest  friend?  From 
what  I  hear,  it  appears  to  be  right  that  your  brother  should 
not  stay.  To  the  best  of  my  ability  I  will  provide  for 
him :  but  I  sincerely  desire*  to  disconnect  you  from  those 
who  are  unworthy  of  you.  Have  you  not  promised  to  trust 
in  me?     Pray,  let  me  be  your  guide." 

Caroline  replied  to  the  heart  of  his  words:  "I  dare  not." 

"What  has  changed  you?" 

"I  am  not  changed,  but  awakened,"  said  Caroline. 

The  Duke  paced  on  in  silence. 

"Pardon  me  if  I  comprehend  nothing  of  such  a  change," 


390  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

he  resumed.  "I  asked  you  to  sacrifice  much;  all  that  I 
could  give  in  return  I  offered.     Is  it  the  world  you  fear?  " 

"What  is  the  world  to  such  as  I  am?" 

"Can  you  consider  it  a  duty  to  deliver  yourself  bound 
to  that  man  again?" 

"  Heaven  pardon  me,  my  lord,  I  think  of  that  too  little !  " 

The  Duke's  next  question:  "Then  what  can  it  be?"  stood 
in  his  eyes. 

"Oh!  "  Caroline's  touch  quivered  on  his  arm.  "Do  not 
suppose  me  frivolous,  ungrateful,  or  —  or  cowardly.  For 
myself  you  have  offered  more  happiness  than  I  could  have 
hoped  for.  To  be  allied  to  one  so  generous,  I  could  bear 
anything.  Yesterday  you  had  my  word .  give  it  me  back 
to-day ! " 

Very  curiously  the  Duke  gazed  on  her,  for  there  was  evi- 
dence of  internal  torture  across  her  forehead. 

"  I  may  at  least  beg  to  know  the  cause  for  this  request  ?  " 

She  quelled  some  throbbing  in  her  bosom.     "  Yes." 

He  waited,  and  she  said :  "  There  is  one  —  if  I  offended 
him,  I  could  not  live.  If  now  I  followed  my  wishes,  he 
would  lose  his  faith  in  the  last  creature  that  loves  him.  He 
is  unhappy.  I  could  bear  what  is  called  disgrace,  my  lord 
—  I  shudder  to  say  it  —  I  could  sin  against  heaven;  but  I 
dare  not  do  what  would  make  him  despise  me." 

She  was  trembling  violently;  yet  the  nobleman,  in  his 
surprise,  could  not  forbear  from  asking  who  this  person 
might  be,  whose  influence  on  her  righteous  actions  was  so 
strong. 

^*  It  is  my  brother,  my  lord,"  she  said. 

Still  more  astonished,  "Your  brother!"  the  Duke  ex- 
claimed. "  My  dearest  lady,  I  would  not  wound  you ;  but  is 
not  this  a  delusion  ?  We  are  so  placed  that  we  must  speak 
plainly.  Your  brother  I  have  reason  to  feel  sure  is  quite 
unworthy  of  you." 

"  Unworthy  ?  My  brother  Evan  ?  Oh !  he  is  noble,  —  he 
is  the  best  of  men !  " 

"  And  how,  between  yesterday  and  to-day,  has  he  changed 
you  ?  " 

"It  is  that  yesterday  I  did  not  know  him,  and  to-day 
I  do." 

Her  brother,  a  common  tradesman,  a  man  guilty  of  forgery 


THE  RETREAT  FROM  BECKLEY        391 

and  the  utmost  baseness  —  all  but  kicked  out  of  the  house  ! 
The  Duke  was  too  delicate  to  press  her  further.  Moreover, 
Caroline  had  emphasized  the  *  yesterday '  and  *  to-day, ' 
showing  that  the  interval  which  had  darkened  Evan  to 
everybody  else,  had  illumined  him  to  her.  He  employed 
some  courtly  eloquence,  better  unrecorded ;  but  if  her  firm 
resolution  perplexed  him,  it  threw  a  strange  halo  round 
the  youth  from  whom  it  sprang. 

The  hour  was  now  eleven,  and  the  Countess  thought  it  full 
time  to  retire  to  her  entrenchment  in  Mrs.  Bonner's  chamber. 
She  had  great  things  still  to  do :  vast  designs  were  in  her 
hand  awaiting  the  sanction  of  Providence.  Alas !  that  little 
idle  promenade  was  soon  to  be  repented.  She  had  joined  her 
sister,  thinking  it  safer  to  have  her  up-stairs  till  they  were 
quit  of  Evan.  The  Duke  and  the  diplomatist  loitering  in  the 
rear,  those  two  fair  women  sailed  across  the  lawn,  conscious, 
doubtless,  over  all  their  sorrows  and  schemes,  of  the  freight 
of  beauty  they  carried. 

What  meant  that  gathering  on  the  steps  ?  It  was  fortui- 
tous, like  everything  destined  to  confound  us.  There  stood 
Lady  Jocelyn  with  Andrew,  fretting  his  pate.  Harry  leant 
against  a  pillar,  Miss  Carrington,  Mrs.  Shorne,  and  Mrs. 
Melville,  supported  by  Mr.  George  Uploft,  held  watchfully 
by.  Juliana,  with  Master  Alec  and  Miss  Dorothy,  were  in 
the  background. 

Why  did  our  General  see  herself  cut  off  from  her  strong- 
hold, as  by  a  hostile  band  ?  She  saw  it  by  that  sombre  light 
in  Juliana's  eyes,  which  had  shown  its  ominous  gleam  when- 
ever disasters  were  on  the  point  of  unfolding. 

Turning  to  Caroline,  she  said :  "  Is  there  a  back  way  ?  " 

Too  late !    Andrew  called. 

"Come  along,  Louisa.  Just  time,  and  no  more.  Carry, 
are  you  packed  ?  " 

This  in  reality  was  the  first  note  of  the  retreat  from 
Beckley ;  and  having  blown  it,  the  hideous  little  trumpeter 
burst  into  scarlet  perspirations,  mumbling  to  Lady  Jocelyn : 
"  Now,  my  lady,  mind  you  stand  by  me." 

The  Countess  walked  straight  up  to  him. 

"  Dear  Andrew !  this  sun  is  too  powerful  for  you.  I  beg 
you,  withdraw  into  the  shade  of  the  house." 

She  was  about  to  help  him  with  all  her  gentleness. 


392  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"Yes,  yes.  All  right,  Louisa,"  rejoined  Andrew.  "Come, 
go  and  pack.  The  fly'll  be  here,  you  know  —  too  late  for 
the  coach,  if  you  don't  mind,  my  lass.  Ain't  you  packed 
yet  ?  " 

The  horrible  fascination  of  vulgarity  impelled  the  wretched 
lady  to  answer :  "  Are  we  herrings  ?  "  And  then  she  laughed, 
but  without  any  accompaniment. 

"  I  am  now  going  to  dear  Mrs.  Bonner,"  she  said,  with  a 
tender  glance  at  Lady  Jocelyn. 

"  My  mother  is  sleeping,"  her  ladyship  remarked. 

"  Come,  Carry,  my  darling ! "  cried  Andrew. 

Caroline  looked  at  her  sister.  The  Countess  divined  An- 
drew's shameful  trap. 

"I  was  under  an  engagement  to  go  and  canvass  this  after- 
noon," she  said. 

"Why,  my  dear  Louisa,  we've  settled  that  in  here  this 
morning,"  said  Andrew.  "Old  Tom  only  stuck  up  a  puppet 
to  play  with.  We've  knocked  him  over,  and  march  in  vic- 
torious —  eh,  my  lady  ?  " 

"  Oh ! "  exclaimed  the  Countess,  "  if  Mr.  Raikes  shall 
indeed  have  listened  to  my  inducements !  " 

"  Deuce  a  bit  of  inducements ! "  returned  Andrew.  "  The 
fellow's  ashamed  of  himself  —  ha !  ha !    Now  then,  Louisa." 

While  they  talked,  Juliana  had  loosed  Dorothy  and  Alec, 
and  these  imps  were  seen  rehearsing  a  remarkable  play, 
in  which  the  damsel  held  forth  a  hand  and  the  cavalier 
advanced  and  kissed  it  with  a  loud  smack,  being  at  the 
same  time  reproached  for  his  lack  of  grace. 

"  You  are  so  English ! "  cried  Dorothy,  with  perfect  lan- 
guor, and  a  malicious  twitter  passed  between  two  oi  three. 
Mr.  George  spluttered  indiscreetly. 

The  Countess  observed  the  performance.  Not  to  convert 
the  retreat  into  a  total  rout,  she,  with  that  dark  flush  which 
was  her  manner  of  blushing,  took  formal  leave  of  Lady 
Jocelyn,  who,  in  return,  simply  said :  "  Good-bye,  Countess." 
Mrs.  Strike's  hand  she  kindly  shook. 

The  few  digs  and  slaps  and  thrusts  at  gloomy  Harry  and 
prim  Miss  Carrington  and  boorish  Mr.  George,  wherewith  the 
Countess,  torn  with  wrath,  thought  it  necessary  to  cover  her 
retreat,  need  not  be  told.  She  struck  the  weak  alone :  Juliana 
she  respected.     Masterly  tactics,  for  they  showed  her  power, 


THE  RETREAT  FROM  BECKLBY        893 

gratified  her  vengeance,  and  left  her  miassailed.  On  the  road 
she  had  Andrew  to  tear  to  pieces.  0  delicious  operation ! 
And  O  shameful  brother  to  reduce  her  to  such  joys !  And,  0 
Providence !  may  a  poor  desperate  soul,  betrayed  through  her 
devotion,  unremunerated  for  her  humiliation  and  absolute 
hard  work,  accuse  thee  ?  The  Countess  would  have  liked  to. 
She  felt  it  to  be  the  instigation  of  the  devil,  and  decided  to 
remain  on  the  safe  side  still. 

Happily  for  Evan,  she  was  not  ready  with  her  packing  by 
half-past  eleven.  It  was  near  twelve  when  he,  pacing  in 
front  of  the  inn,  observed  Polly  Wheedle,  followed  some 
yards  in  the  rear  by  John  Raikes,  advancing  towards  him. 
Now  Polly  had  been  somewhat  delayed  by  Jack's  persecu- 
tions, and  Evan  declining  to  attend  to  the  masked  speech  of 
her  mission,  which  directed  him  to  go  at  once  down  a  cer- 
tain lane  in  the  neighbourhood  of  the  park,  some  minutes 
were  lost. 

"Why,  Mr.  Harrington,"  said  Polly,  "it's  Miss  Rose: 
she's  had  leave  from  her  Ma.  Can  you  stop  away,  when  it's 
quite  proper  ?  " 

Evan  hesitated.  Before  he  could  conquer  the  dark  spirit, 
lo.  Rose  appeared,  walking  up  the  village  street.  Polly  and 
her  adorer  fell  back. 

Timidly,  unlike  herself,  Rose  neared  him. 

"  I  have  offended  you,  Evan.  You  would  not  come  to  me : 
I  have  come  to  you." 

"  I  am  glad  to  be  able  to  say  good-bye  to  you.  Rose,"  was 
his  pretty  response. 

Could  she  have  touched  his  hand  then,  the  blood  of  these 
lovers  rushing  to  one  channel  must  have  made  all  clear.  At 
least  he  could  hardly  have  struck  her  true  heart  with  his 
miserable  lie.  But  that  chance  was  lost:  they  were  in  the 
street,  where  passions  have  no  play. 

"  Tell  me,  Evan,  —  it  is  not  true." 

He,  refining  on  his  misery,  thought.  She  would  not  ask 
it  if  she  trusted  me :  and  answered  her :  "  You  have  heard 
it  from  your  mother.  Rose." 

"  But  I  will  not  believe  it  from  any  lips  but  yours,  Evan. 
Oh,  speak,  speak  ! " 

It  pleased  him  to  think :  How  could  one  who  loved  me 
believe  it  even  then  ? 


894  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

He  said  :  "  It  can  scarcely  do  good  to  make  me  repeat  it, 
Kose." 

And  then,  seeing  her  dear  bosom  heave  quickly,  he  was 
tempted  to  fall  on  his  knees  to  her  with  a  wild  outcry 
of  love.  The  chance  was  lost.  The  inexorable  street  for- 
bade it. 

There  they  stood  in  silence,  gasping  at  the  barrier  that 
divided  them. 

Suddenly  a  noise  was  heard.  "  Stop  !  stop ! "  cried  the 
voice  of  John  Raikes.  "  When  a  lady  and  gentleman  are 
talking  together,  sir,  do  you  lean  your  lohg  ears  over  them 
—  ha?" 

Looking  round,  Evan  beheld  Laxley  a  step  behind,  and 
Jack  rushing  up  to  him,  seizing  his  collar,  and  instantly 
undergoing  ignominious  prostration  for  his  heroic  defence 
of  the  privacy  of  lovers. 

"  Stand  aside,"  said  Laxley,  imperiously.  "  Rosey !  so 
you've  come  for  me.  Take  my  arm.  You  are  under  my 
protection." 

Another  forlorn  "  Is  it  true  ?  "  Rose  cast  toward  Evan 
with  her  eyes.     He  wavered  under  them. 

"  Did  you  receive  my  letter  ?  "  he  demanded  of  Laxley. 

"  I  decline  to  hold  converse  with  you,"  said  Laxley,  draw- 
ing Rose's  hand  on  his  arm. 

"  You  will  meet  me  to-day  or  to-morrow  ?  " 

"  I  am  in  the  habit  of  selecting  my  own  company." 

Rose  disengaged  her  hand.  Evan  grasped  it.  No"  word 
of  farewell  was  uttered.  Her  mouth  moved,  but  her  eyes 
were  hard  shut,  and  nothing  save  her  hand's  strenuous 
pressure,  equalling  his  own,  told  that  their  parting  had  been 
spoken,  the  link  violently  snapped. 

Mr.  John  Raikes  had  been  picked  up  and  pulled  away 
by  Polly.  She  now  rushed  to  Evan:  "Good-bye,  and 
God  bless  you,  dear  Mr.  Harrington.  I'll  find  means  of 
letting  you  know  how  she  is.  And  he  shan't  have  her, 
mind ! " 

Rose  was  walking  by  Laxley's  side,  but  not  leaning  on 
his  arm.  Evan  blessed  her  for  this.  Ere  she  was  out  of 
sight  the  fly  rolled  down  the  street.  She  did  not  heed  it, 
did  not  once  turn  her  head.     Ah,  bitter  unkindness  ! 

When  Love  is  hurt,  it  is  self-love  that  requires  the  opiate. 


IN  WHICH  WE  HAVE  TO   SEE  IN  THE   DARK      395 

Conning  gave  it  him  in  the  form  of  a  note  in  a  handwriting 
not  known  to  him.     It  said :  — 

"J do  not  believe  it,  and  nothing  will  ever  make  me. 

"Juliana." 

Evan  could  not  forget  these  words.  They  coloured  his 
farewell  to  Beck  ley :  the  dear  old  downs,  the  hop-gardens, 
the  long  grey  farms  walled  with  clipped  yew,  the  home  of 
his  lost  love  !  He  thought  of  them  through  weary  nights 
when  the  ghostly  image  with  the  hard  shut  eyelids  and  the 
quivering  lips  would  rise  and  sway  irresolutely  in  air  till  a 
shape  out  of  the  darkness  extinguished  it.  Pride  is  the  God 
of  Pagans.  Juliana  had  honoured  his  God.  The  spirit  of 
Juliana  seemed  to  pass  into  the  body  of  Rose,  and  suffer  for 
him  as  that  ghostly  image  visibly  suffered. 


CHAPTER  XXXVIII 

IN"  WHICH  WE   HAVE   TO   SEE   IN  THE  DABS 

So  ends  the  fourth  act  of  our  comedy. 

After  all  her  heroism  and  extraordinary  efforts,  after,  as 
she  feared,  offending  Providence  —  after  facing  TaUordom 
—  the  Countess  was  rolled  away  in  a  dingy  fly :  unrewarded 
even  by  a  penny,  for  what  she  had  gone  through.  For  she 
possessed  eminently  the  practical  nature  of  her  sex;  and 
though  she  would  have  scorned,  and  would  have  declined  to 
handle  coin  so  base,  its  absence  was  upbraidingly  mentioned 
in  her  spiritual  outcries.     Not  a  penny  ! 

Nor  was  there,  as  in  the  miseries  of  retreat  she  affected 
indifferently  to  imagine,  a  Duke  fished  out  of  the  ruins  of 
her  enterprise,  to  wash  the  mud  off  her  garments  and  edge 
them  with  radiance.  Caroline,  it  became  clear  to  her,  had 
been  infected  by  Evan's  folly.  Caroline,  she  subsequently 
learnt,  had  likewise  been  a  fool.  Instead  of  marvelling  at 
the  genius  that  had  done  so  much  in  spite  of  the  pair  of  fools 
that  were  the  right  and  left  wing  of  her  battle  array,  the 


396  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

simple-minded  lady  wept.  She  wanted  success,  not  genius. 
Admiration  she  was  ever  ready  to  forfeit  for  success. 

Nor  did  she  say  to  the  tailors  of  earth:  "Weep,  for  I 
sought  to  emancipate  you  from  opprobrium  by  making  one 
of  you  a  gentleman ;  I  f ought  for  a  great  principle  and  have 
failed."  Heroic  to  the  end,  she  herself  shed  all  the  tears; 
took  all  the  sorrow! 

AVhere  was  consolation  ?  Would  any  Protestant  clergy- 
man administer  comfort  to  her  ?  Could  he  ? — might  he  do 
so?  He  might  listen,  and  quote  texts;  but  he  would  de- 
mand the  harsh  rude  English  for  everything;  and  the  Count- 
ess's confessional  thoughts  were  all  innuendoish,  aerial;  too 
delicate  to  live  in  our  shameless  tongue.  Confession  by  im- 
plication, and  absolution;  she  could  know  this  to  be  what 
she  wished  for,  and  yet  not  think  it.  She  could  see  a  haven 
of  peace  in  that  picture  of  the  little  brown  box  with  the 
sleekly  reverend  figure  bending  his  ear  to  the  kneeling 
Beauty  outside,  thrice  ravishing  as  she  half-lifts  the  veil  of 
her  sins  and  her  visage! — yet  she  started  alarmed  to  hear 
it  whispered  that  the  fair  penitent  was  the  Countess  de 
Saldar;  urgently  she  prayed  that  no  disgraceful  brother 
might  ever  drive  her  to  that ! 

Never  let  it  be  a  Catholic  priest! — she  almost  fashioned 
her  petition  into  words.  Who  was  to  save  her  ?  Alas !  alas ! 
in  her  dire  distress — in  her  sense  of  miserable  penniless- 
ness,  she  clung  to  Mr.  John  Eaikes,  of  the  curricle,  the  mys- 
teriously rich  young  gentleman ;  and  on  that  picture,  with 
Andrew  roguishly  contemplating  it,  and  Evan,  with  feelings 
regarding  his  sister  that  he  liked  not  to  own,  the  curtain 
commiseratingly  drops. 

As  in  the  course  of  a  stream  you  come  upon  certain  dips, 
where,  but  here  and  there,  a  sparkle  or  a  gloom  of  the  full 
flowing  water  is  caught  through  deepening  foliage,  so  the 
history  that  concerns  us  wanders  out  of  day  for  a  time,  and 
we  must  violate  the  post  and  open  written  leaves  to  mark 
the  turn  it  takes. 

First  we  have  a  letter  from  Mr.  Goren  to  ]\rrs.  Mel,  to 
inform  her  that  her  son  has  arrived  and  paid  his  respects  to 
his  future  instructor  in  the  branch  of  science  practised  by 
Mr.  Goren. 


IN  WHICH   WE   HAVE  TO   SEE  IN  THE  DARK       397 

"He  has  arrived  at  last,"  s&ys  the  worthy  tradesman. 
"  His  appearance  in  the  shop  will  be  highly  gentlemanly, 
and  when  he  looks  a  little  more  pleasing,  and  grows  fond  of 
it,  nothing  will  be  left  to  be  desired.  The  ladies,  his  sisters, 
have  not  thought  proper  to  call.  I  had  hopes  of  the  custom 
of  Mr.  Andrew  Cogglesby.  Of  course  you  wish  him  to  learn 
tailoring  thoroughly  ?  " 

Mrs.  Mel  writes  back,  thanking  Mr.  Goren,  and  saying 
that  she  had  shown  the  letter  to  inquiring  creditors,  and  that 
she  does  wish  her  son  to  learn  his  business  from  the  root. 
This  produces  a  second  letter  from  Mr.  Goren,  which  impai-ts 
to  her  that  at  the  root  of  the  tree  of  tailoring  the  novitiate 
must  sit  no  less  than  six  hours  a  day  with  his  legs  crossed 
and  doubled  under  him,  cheerfully  plying  needle  and  thread ; 
and  that,  without  this  probation,  to  undergo  which  the  son 
resolutely  objects,  all  hope  of  his  climbing  to  the  top  of  the 
lofty  tree,  and  viewing  mankind  from  an  eminence,  must  be 
surrendered. 

"  If  you  do  not  insist,  my  dear  Mrs.  Harrington,  I  tell  you 
candidly,  your  son  may  have  a  shop,  but  he  will  be  no  tailor." 

Mrs.  Mel  understands  her  son  and  his  state  of  mind  well 
enoijgh  not  to  insist,  and  is  resigned  to  the  melancholy  con- 
sequence. 

Then  Mr.  Goren  discovers  an  extraordinary  resemblance 
between  Evan  and  his  father;  remarking  merely  that  the 
youth  is  not  the  gentleman  his  father  was  in  a  shop,  while 
he  admits,  that  had  it  been  conjoined  to  business  habits,  he 
should  have  envied  his  departed  friend. 

He  has  soon  something  fresh  to  tell ;  and  it  is  that  young 
Mr.  Harrington  is  treating  him  cavalierly.  That  he  should 
penetrate  the  idea  or  appreciate  the  merits  of  IMr.  Goren's 
Balance  was  hardly  to  be  expected  at  2)rese7it :  the  world  did 
not,  and  Mr.  Goren  blamed  no  young  man  for  his  ignorance. 
Still  a  proper  attendance  was  requisite.  Mr.  Goren  thought 
it  very  singular  that  young  Mr.  Harrington  should  demand 
all  the  hours  of  the  day  for  hfs  own  purposes, — up  to  half- 
past  four.  He  found  it  difficult  to  speak  to  him  as  a  master, 
and  begged  that  Mrs.  Harrington  would,  as  a  mother. 

The  reply  of  Mrs.  Mel  is  dashed  with  a  trifle  of  cajolery. 
She  has  heard  from  her  son,  and  seeing  that  her  son  takes 


398  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

all  that  time  from  his  right  studies,  to  earn  money  where- 
with to  pay  debts  of  which  Mr.  Goren  is  cognizant,  she 
trusts  that  their  oldest  friend  will  overlook  it. 

Mr.  Goren  rejoins  that  he  considers  that  he  need  not  have 
been  excluded  from  young  Mr.  Harrington's  confidence. 
Moreover,  it  is  a  grief  to  him  that  the  young  gentleman 
should  refrain  from  accepting  any  of  his  suggestions  as  to  the 
propriety  of  requesting  some,  at  least,  of  his  rich  and  titled 
acquaintance  to  confer  on  him  the  favour  of  their  patronage. 

"  Which  they  would  not  repent,"  adds  Mr,  Goren,  "  and 
might  learn  to  be  very  much  obliged  to  him  for,  in  return 
for  kindnesses  extended  to  him." 

Notwithstanding  all  my  efforts,  you  see,  the  poor  boy  is 
thrust  into  the  shop.  There  he  is,  without  a  doubt.  He 
sleeps  under  Mr.  Goren's  roof:  he  (since  one  cannot  be  too 
positive  in  citing  the  punishment  of  such  a  Pagan)  stands 
behind  a  counter:  he  (and,  oh  !  choke,  young  loves,  that 
have  hovered  around  him!  shrink  from  him  in  natural 
horror,  gentle  ladies!)  handles  the  shears.  It  is  not  my 
fault.     He  would  be  a  Pagan. 

If  you  can  think  him  human  enough  still  to  care  to  know 
how  he  feels  it,  I  must  tell  you  that  he  feels  it  hardly  at 
all.  After  a  big  bloAv,  a  very  little  one  scarcely  counts. 
What  are  outward  forms  and  social  ignominies  to  him  whose 
heart  has  been  struck  to  the  dust  ?  His  Gods  have  fought 
for  him,  and  there  he  is !     He  deserves  no  pity. 

But  he  does  not  ask  it  of  you,  the  callous  Pagan !  Despise 
him,  if  you  please,  and  rank  with  the  Countess,  who  despises 
him  most  heartily. 

Dipping  further  into  the  secrets  of  the  post,  we  discovei 
a  brisk  correspondence  between  Juliana  Bonner  and  Mrs. 
Strike. 

**  A  thousand  thanks  to  you,  my  dear  Miss  Bonner,"  writes 
the  latter  lady.  "  The  unaffected  interest  you  take  in  my 
brother  touches  me  deeply.  I  hnoiu  him  to  be  worthy  of 
your  good  opinion.  Yes,  I  will  open  my  heart  to  you, 
dearest  Juliana;  and  it  shall,  as  you  wish,  be  quite  secret 
between  us.     Not  to  a  soul ! 

"  He  is  quite  alone.  My  sisters  Harriet  and  Louisa  will 
not  see  him,  and  I  can  only  do  so  by  stealth.     His  odd  little 


IN  WHICH   WE   HAVE  TO   SEE   IN  THE  DAKK      399 

friend  sometimes  drives  me  out  on  Sundays,  to  a  place  where 
I  meet  him  ;  and  the  Duke  of  Belfield  kindly  lends  me  his 
carriage.  Oh,  that  we  might  never  part !  I  am  only  happy 
with  him ! 

"  Ah,  do  not  doubt  him,  Juliana,  for  anything  he  does ! 
You  say,  that  now  the  Duke  has  obtained  for  him  the  Secre- 
taryship to  my  husband's  Company,  he  shoiild  not  stoop  to 
that  other  thing,  and  you  do  not  understand  why.  I  will 
tell  you.  Our  poor  father  died  in  debt,  and  Evan  receives 
money  which  enables  him  by  degrees  to  liquidate  these  debts, 
on  condition  that  he  consents  to  be  what  /  dislike  as  much 
as  you  can.  He  bears  it ;  you  can  have  no  idea  of  his  pride ! 
He  is  too  proud  to  own  to  himself  that  it  debases  him  —  too 
proud  to  complain.  It  is  a  tangle  —  a  net  that  drags  him 
down  to  it :  but  whatever  he  is  outwardly,  he  is  the  noblest 
human  being  in  the  world  to  me,  and  but  for  Mm,  oh,  what 
should  I  be?  Let  me  beg  you  to  forgive  it,  if  you  can.  My 
darling  has  no  friends.  Is  his  temper  as  sweet  as  ever  ?  I 
can  answer  that.  Yes,  only  he  is  silent,  and  looks  —  when 
you  look  into  his  eyes  —  colder,  as  men  look  when  they  will 
not  bear  much  from  other  men. 

"He  has  not  mentioned  her  name.  I  am  sure  she  has  not 
written, 

"  Pity  him,  and  pray  for  him." 

Juliana  then  makes  a  communication,  which  draws  forth 
the  following :  — 

"  Mistress  of  all  the  Beckley  property  —  dearest,  dearest 
Juliana !  Oh !  how  sincerely  I  congratulate  you !  The 
black  on  the  letter  alarmed  me  so,  I  could  hardly  open  it, 
my  fingers  trembled  so ;  for  I  esteem  you  all  at  Beckley ; 
but  when  I  had  opened  and  read  it,  I  was  recompensed. 
You  say  you  are  sorry  for  Rose.  But  surely  what  your 
Grandmama  has  done  is  quite  right.  It  is  just,  in  every 
sense.  But  why  am  I  not  to  tell  Evan  ?  I  am  certain  it 
would  make  him  very  happy,  and  happiness  of  any  kind  he 
needs  so  much !  I  will  obey  you,  of  course,  but  I  cannot 
see  why.  Do  you  know,  my  dear  child,  you  are  extremely 
mysterious,  and  puzzle  me.  Evan  takes  a  pleasure  in  speak- 
ing of  you.  You  and  Lady  Jocelyn  are  his  great  themes. 
Why  is  he  to  be  kept  ignorant  of  your  good  fortune  ?  The 
spitting  of  blood  is  bad.     You   mitst  winter  in  a  warm 


400  EVAN  HAREINGTON 

climate.  I  do  think  that  London  is  far  better  for  you  in 
the  late  Autumn  than  Hampshire.  May  I  ask  my  sister 
Harriet  to  invite  you  to  reside  with  her  for  some  weeks  ? 
Nothing,  I  know,  would  give  her  greater  pleasure." 

Juliana  answers  this  — 

"  If  you  love  me  —  I  sometimes  hope  that  you  do  —  but 
the  feeling  of  being  loved  is  so  strange  to  me  that  I  can  only 
believe  it  at  times  —  but,  Caroline  —  there,  I  have  mustered 
up  courage  to  call  you  by  your  Christian  name  at  last  —  oh, 
dear  Caroline  !  if  you  do  love  me,  do  not  tell  Mr.  Harring- 
ton. I  go  on  my  knees  to  you  to  beg  you  not  to  tell  him  a 
word.  I  have  no  reasons  indeed  —  not  any ;  but  I  implore 
you  again  never  even  to  hint  that  I  am  anything  but  the 
person  he  knew  at  Beckley. 

"  Kose  has  gone  to  Elburne  House,  where  Ferdinand,  her 
friend,  is  to  meet  her.  She  rides  and  sings  the  same,  and 
keeps  all  her  colour. 

"She  may  not,  as  you  imagine,  have  much  sensibility. 
Perhaps  not  enough.  I  am  afraid  that  Kose  is  turning  into 
a  very  worldly  woman ! 

"  As  to  what  you  kindly  say  about  inviting  me  to  London, 
I  should  like  it,  and  I  am  my  own  mistress.  Do  you  know, 
I  think  I  am  older  than  your  brother !  I  am  twenty-^Aree. 
Pray,  when  you  write,  tell  me  if  he  is  older  than  that.  But 
should  I  not  be  a  dreadful  burden  to  you  ?  Sometimes  I 
have  to  keep  to  my  chamber  whole  days  and  days.  When 
that  happens  now,  I  think  of  you  entirely.  See  how  I  open 
my  heart  to  you.  You  say  that  you  do  to  me.  I  wish  I 
could  really  think  it." 

A  postscript  begs  Caroline  "not  to  forget  about  the  ages." 

In  this  fashion  the  two  ladies  open  their  hearts,  and  con- 
trive to  read  one  another  perfectly  in  their  mutual  hypoc- 
risies. 

Some  letters  bearing  the  signatures  of  Mr.  John  Raikes, 
and  Miss  Polly  Wheedle,  likewise  pass.  Polly  inquires  for 
detailed  accounts  of  the  health  and  doings  of  Mr.  Harring- 
ton. Jack  replies  with  full  particulars  of  her  own  proceed- 
ings, and  mild  corrections  of  her  grammar.  It  is  to  be  noted 
that  Polly  grows  much  humbler  to  him  on  paper,  which  being 
instantly  perceived  by  the  mercurial  one,  his  caressing  con- 
descension to  her  is  very  beautiful.     She  is  taunted  with  Mr. 


m  THE  DOMAIN  OF  TAILORDOM  401 

Nicholas  Frim,  and  answers,  after  the  lapse  of  a  week,  that 
the  aforesaid  can  be  nothing  to  her,  as  he  "  went  in  a  passion 
to  church  last  Sunday  and  got  married."  It  appears  that 
they  had  quarrelled,  "because  I  danced  with  you  that 
night."  To  this  Mr.  Raikes  rejoins  in  a  style  that  would 
be  signified  by  "  ahem ! "  in  language,  and  an  arrangement 
of  the  shirt  collar  before  the  looking-glass,  in  action. 


CHAPTER  XXXIX 

IN  THE   DOMAIN   OF   TAILORDOM 

There  was  peace  in  Mr.  Goren's  shop.  Badgered  Ministers, 
bankrupt  merchants,  diplomatists  with  a  headache  —  any  of 
our  modern  grandees  under  difficulties,  might  have  envied 
that  peace  over  which  Mr.  Goren  presided :  and  he  was  an 
enviable  man.  He  loved  his  craft,  he  believed  that  he  had 
not  succeeded  the  millions  of  antecedent  tailors  in  vain ;  and, 
excepting  that  trifling  coquetry  with  shirt-fronts,  viz.,  the 
red  crosses  which  a  shrewd  rival  had  very  soon  eclipsed  by 
representing  nymphs  triangularly  posed,  he  devoted  himself 
to  his  business  from  morning  to  night ;  as  rigid  in  demanding 
respect  from  those  beneath  him,  as  he  was  profuse  in  lavishing 
it  on  his  patrons.  His  public  boast  was,  that  he  owed  no 
man  a  farthing;  his  secret  comfort,  that  he  possessed  two 
thousand  pounds  in  the  Funds.  But  Mr.  Goren  did  not  stop 
here.  Behind  these  external  characteristics  he  nursed  a 
passion.  Evan  was  astonished  and  pleased  to  find  in  him 
an  enthusiastic  fern-collector.  Not  that  Mr.  Harrington 
shared  the  passion,  but  the  sight  of  these  brown  roots  spread 
out,  ticketed,  on  the  stained  paper,  after  supper,  when  the 
shutters  were  up  and  the  house  defended  from  the  hostile 
outer  world;  the  old  man  poring  over  them,  and. naming 
this  and  that  spot  where,  during  his  solitary  Saturday  after- 
noon and  Sunday  excursions,  he  had  lighted  on  the  rare 
samples  exhibited :  this  contrast  of  the  quiet  evening  with 
the  sordid  day  humanized  Mr.  Goren  to  him.  He  began  to 
see  a  spirit  in  the  rigid  tradesman  not  so  utterly  dissimilar 


402  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

to  his  own,  and  he  fancied  that  he,  too,  had  a  taste  for  ferns. 
Round  Beckley  how  they  abounded ! 

He  told  Mr.  Goren  so,  and  Mr.  Goren  said : 

"  Some  day  we'll  jog  down  there  together,  as  the  saying 
goes." 

Mr.  Goren  spoke  of  it  as  an  ordinary  event,  likely  to  hap- 
pen in  the  days  to  come :  not  as  an  incident  the  mere  mention 
of  which,  as  being  probable,  stopped  the  breath  and  made 
the  pulses  leap. 

For  now  Evan's  education  taught  him  to  feel  that  he  was 
at  his  lowest  degree.  Never  now  could  Rose  stoop  to  him. 
He  carried  the  shop  on  his  back.  She  saw  the  brand  of  it 
on  his  forehead.  Well !  and  what  was  Rose  to  him,  beyond 
a  blissful  memory,  a  star  that  he  had  once  touched  ?  Self- 
love  kept  him  strong  by  day,  but  in  the  darkness  of  night 
came  his  misery;  wakening  from  tender  dreams,  he  would 
find  his  heart  sinking  under  a  horrible  pressure,  and  then 
the  fair  fresh  face  of  Rose  swam  over  him;  the  hours  of 
Beckley  were  revived ;  with  intolerable  anguish  he  saw  that 
she  was  blameless  —  that  he  alone  was  to  blame.  Yet  worse 
was  it  when  his  closed  eyelids  refused  to  conjure  up  the 
sorrowful  lovely  nightmare,  and  he  lay  like  one  in  a  trance, 
entombed  —  wretched  Pagan!  feeling  all  that  had  been 
blindly ;  when  the  Past  lay  beside  him  like  a  corpse  that 
he  had  slain. 

These  nightly  torments  helped  him  to  brave  what  the 
morning  brought.  Insensibly  also,  as  Time  hardened  his 
sufferings,  Evan  asked  himself  what  the  shame  of  his  posi- 
tion consisted  in.  He  grew  stiff-necked.  His  Pagan  virtues 
stood  up  one  by  one  to  support  him.  Andrew,  courageously 
evading  the  interdict  that  forbade  him  to  visit  Evan,  would 
meet  him  by  appointment  at  City  taverns,  and  flatly  offered 
him  a  place  in  the  Brewery.  Evan  declined  it,  on  the  pre- 
text that,  having  received  Old  Tom's  money  for  the  year,  he 
must  at  least  work  out  that  term  according  to  the  conditions. 
Andrew  fumed  and  sneered  at  Tailordom.  Evan  said  that 
there  was  peace  in  Mr.  Goren's  shop.  His  sharp  senses 
discerned  in  Andrew's  sneer  a  certain  sincerity,  and  he  re- 
volted against  it.  Mr.  John  Raikes,  too,  burlesqued  Society 
so  well,  that  he  had  the  satisfaction  of  laughing  at  his  enemy 
occasionally.     The  latter  gentleman  was  still  a  pensioner, 


IN   THE   DOMAIN   OP  TAILOKDOM  403 

flying  about  town  with  the  Countess  de  Saldar,  in  deadly- 
fear  lest  that  fascinating  lady  should  discover  the  seat  of  his 
fortune ;  happy,  notwithstanding.  In  the  mirror  of  Evan's 
little  world,  he  beheld  the  great  one  from  which  he  was 
banished. 

Now  the  dusk  of  a  winter's  afternoon  was  closing  over 
London,  when  a  carriage  drew  up  in  front  of  Mr.  Goren's 
shop,  out  of  which,  to  Mr.  Goren's  chagrin,  a  lady  stepped, 
with  her  veil  down.  The  lady  entered,  and  said  that  she 
wished  to  speak  to  Mr.  Harrington.  Mr.  Goren  made  way 
for  her  to  his  pupil ;  and  was  amazed  to  see  her  fall  into  his 
arms,  and  hardly  gratified  to  hear  her  say:  "Pardon  me, 
darling,  for  coming  to  you  in  this  place." 

Evan  asked  permission  to  occupy  the  parlour. 

"  My  place,"  said  Mr.  Goren,  with  humble  severity,  over 
his  spectacles,  "is  very  poor.  Such  as  it  is,  it  is  at  the 
lady's  service." 

Alone  with  her,  Evan  was  about  to  ease  his  own  feelings 
by  remarking  to  the  effect  that  Mr.  Goren  was  human  like 
the  rest  of  us,  but  Caroline  cried,  with  unwonted  vivacity : 

"  Yes,  yes,  I  know ;  but  I  thought  only  of  you.  I  have 
such  news  for  you !  You  will  and  must  pardon  my  coming 
—  that's  my  first  thought,  sensitive  darling  that  you  are ! " 
She  kissed  him  fondly.  "  Juliana  Bonner  is  in  town  stay- 
ing with  us ! " 

"  Is  that  your  news  ?  "  asked  Evan,  pressing  her  against 
his  breast. 

"No,  dear  love  —  but  still !  You  have  no  idea  what  her 
fortune  —  Mrs.  Bonner  has  died  and  left  her  —  but  I  mustn't 
tell  you.  Oh,  my  darling !  how  she  admires  you !  She  — 
she  could  recompense  you;  if  you  would!  We  will  put 
that  by,  for  the  present.  Dear !  the  Duke  has  begged  you, 
through  me,  to  accept  —  I  think  it's  to  be  a  sort  of  bailiff  to 
his  estates  —  I  don't  know  rightly.  It's  a  very  honourable 
post,  that  gentlemen  take :  and  the  income  you  are  to  have, 
Evan,  will  be  near  a  thousand  a  year.  Now,  what  do  I 
deserve  for  my  news  ?  " 

She  put  up  her  mouth  for  another  kiss,  out  of  breath. 

"  True  ?  "  looked  Evan's  eyes. 

"  True  !  "  she  said,  smiling,  and  feasting  on  his  bewilder- 
ment. 


404  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

After  the  bubbling  in  his  brain  had  a  little  subsided, 
Evan  breathed  as  a  man  on  whom  fresh  air  is  blown.  Were 
not  these  tidings  of  release  ?  His  ridiculous  pride  must 
nevertheless  inquire  whether  Caroline  had  been  begging 
this  for  him. 

"  No,  dear  —  indeed  ! "  Caroline  asserted  with  more  than 
natural  vehemence.  "  It's  something  that  you  yourself  have 
done  that  has  pleased  him,  I  don't  know  what.  Only  he 
says,  he  believes  you  are  a  man  to  be  trusted  with  the  keys 
of  anything  —  and  so  you  are.  You  are  to  call  on  him 
to-morrow.     Will  you  ?  " 

While  Evan  was  replying,  her  face  became  white.  She 
had  heard  the  Major's  voice  in  the  shop.  His  military 
step  advanced,  and  Caroline,  exclaiming,  "Don't  let  me  see 
him ! "  bustled  to  a  door.  Evan  nodded,  and  she  slipped 
through.     The  next  moment  he  was  facing  the  stiff  marine. 

"  Well,  young  man,"  the  Major  commenced,  and,  seating 
himself,  added,  "  be  seated.  I  want  to  talk  to  you  seriously, 
sir.  You  didn't  think  fit  to  wait  till  I  had  done  with  the 
Directors  to-day.  You're  devilishly  out  in  your  discipline, 
whatever  you  are  at  two  and  two.  I  suppose  there's  no  fear 
of  being  intruded  on  here  ?  None  of  your  acquaintances 
likely  to  be  introducing  themselves  to  me  ?  " 

"There  is  not  one  that  I  would  introduce  to  you,"  said 
Evan. 

The  Major  nodded  a  brief  recognition  of  the  compliment, 
and  then,  throwing  his  back  against  the  chair,  fired  out: 
"  Come,  sir,  is  this  your  doing  ?  " 

In  military  phrase,  Evan  now  changed  front.  His  first 
thought  had  been  that  the  Major  had  come  for  his  wife. 
He  perceived  that  he  himself  was  the  special  object  of  his 
visitation. 

"  I  must  ask  you  what  you  allude  to,"  he  answered. 

"  You  are  not  at  your  office,  but  you  will  speak  to  me  as 
if  there  was  some  distinction  between  us,"  said  the  Major. 
"  My  having  married  your  sister  does  not  reduce  me  to  the 
ranks,  I  hope." 

The  Major  drummed  his  knuckles  on  the  table,  after  this 
impressive  delivery. 

*•'  Hem !  "  he  resumed.  "  Now,  sir,  understand,  before 
you  speak  a  word,  that  I  can  see  through  any  number  of 


IN  THE  DOMAIN   OF   TAILORDOM  405 

infernal  lies.  I  see  that  you're  prepared  for  prevarication. 
By  George !  it  shall  come  out  of  you,  if  I  get  it  by  main 
force.  The  Duke  compelled  me  to  give  you  that  appoint^ 
ment  in  my  Company,  Now,  sir,  did  you,  or  did  you  not, 
go  to  him  and  deliberately  state  to  him  that  you  believed 
the  affairs  of  the  Company  to  be  in  a  bad  condition  — 
infamously  handled,  likely  to  involve  his  honour  as  a  gentle- 
man ?  I  ask  you,  sir,  did  you  do  this,  or  did  you  not  do 
it?" 

Evan  waited  till  the  sharp  rattle  of  the  Major's  close  had 
quieted, 

"  If  I  am  to  answer  the  wording  of  your  statement,  I  may 
say  that  I  did  not." 

"Very  good;  very  good;  that  will  do.  Are  you  aware 
that  the  Duke  has  sent  in  his  resignation  as  a  Director  of 
our  Company  ?  " 

"  I  hear  of  it  first  from  you," 

"  Confound  your  familiarity ! "  cried  the  irritable  officer, 
rising.  "  Am  I  always  to  be  told  that  I  married  your  sister  ? 
Address  me,  sir,  as  becomes  your  duty." 

Evan  heard  the  words  "  beggarly  tailor  "  mumbled :  "  out 
of  the  gutters,"  and  "  cursed  connection."  He  stood  in  the 
attitude  of  attention,  while  the  Major  continued: 

"Now,  young  man,  listen  to  these  facts.  You  came  to 
me  this  day  last  week,  and  complained  that  you  did  not 
comprehend  some  of  our  transactions  and  affairs.  I  ex- 
plained them  to  your  damned  stupidity.  You  went  away. 
Three  days  after  that,  you  had  an  interview  with  the  Duke. 
Stop,  sir !  What  the  devil  do  you  mean  by  daring  to  speak 
while  I  am  speaking?  You  saw  the  Duke,  I  say.  Now, 
what  took  place  at  that  interview  ?  " 

The  Major  tried  to  tower  over  Evan  powerfully,  as  he  put 
this  query.  They  were  of  a  common  height,  and  to  do  so, 
he  had  to  rise  on  his  toes,  so  that  the  effect  was  but  momen- 
tary. 

"  I  think  I  am  not  bound  to  reply,"  said  Evan. 

"  Very  well,  sir ;  that  will  do."  The  Major's  fingers  were 
evidently  itching  for  an  absent  rattan.  "  Confess  it  or  not, 
you  are  dismissed  from  your  post.  Do  you  hear  ?  You  are 
kicked  in  the  street.  A  beggarly  tailor  you  were  born,  and 
a  beggarly  tailor  you  will  die." 


406  EVAN  HAERINGTON 

"  I  must  beg  you  to  stop,  now,"  said  Evan.  "  I  told  you 
that  I  was  not  bound  to  reply :  but  I  will.  If  you  will  sit 
down.  Major  Strike,  you  shall  hear  what  you  wish  to 
know." 

This  being  presently  complied  with,  though  not  before  a 
glare  of  the  Major's  eyes  had  shown  his  doubt  whether  it 
might  not  be  construed  into  insolence,  Evan  pursued : 

"  I  came  to  you  and  informed  you  that  I  could  not  recon- 
cile the  cash-accounts  of  the  Company,  and  that  certain  of 
the  later  proceedings  appeared  to  me  to  jeopardize  its  pros- 
perity. Your  explanations  did  not  satisfy  me.  I  admit 
that  you  enjoined  me  to  be  silent.  But  the  Duke,  as  a 
Director,  had  as  strong  a  right  to  claim  me  as  his  servant, 
and  when  he  questioned  me  as  to  the  position  of  the 
Company,  I  told  him  what  I. thought,  just  as  I  had  told 
you." 

"  You  told  him  we  were  jobbers  and  swindlers,  sir ! " 

"  The  Duke  inquired  of  me  whether  I  would,  under  the 
circumstances,  while  proceedings  were  going  on  which  I  did 
not  approve  of,  take  the  responsibility  of  allowing  my  name 
to  remain " 

"  Ha !  ha !  ha ! "  the  Major  burst  out.  This  was  too  good 
a  joke.  The  name  of  a  miserable  young  tailor !  —  "  Go  on, 
sir,  go  on!"  He  swallowed  his  laughter  like  oil  on  his 
rage. 

"  I  have  said  sufficient." 

Jumping  up,  the  Major  swore  by  the  Lord,  that  he  had 
said  sufficient. 

"Now,  look  you  here,  young  man."  He  squared  his 
finger  before  Evan,  eyeing  him  under  a  hard  frown.  "  You 
have  been  playing  your  game  again,  as  you  did  down  at 
that  place  in  Hampshire.  I  heard  of  it — deserved  to  be 
shot,  by  heaven !  You  think  you  have  got  hold  of  the 
Duke,  and  you  throw  me  over.  You  imagine,  I  dare  say, 
that  I  will  allow  my  wife  to  be  talked  about  to  further 
your  interests  —  you  self-seeking  young  dog!  As  long  as 
he  lent  the  Company  his  name,  I  permitted  a  great  many 
things.  Do  you  think  me  a  blind  idiot,  sir  ?  But  now  she 
must  learn  to  be  satisfied  with  people  who've  got  no  titles, 
or  carriages,  and  who  can't  give  hundred  guinea  compli- 
ments.   You're  all  of  a  piece  —  a  set  of  .  .  .  ." 


IN  THE  DOMAIN   OF   TATLORDOM  407 

The  Major  paused,  for  half  a  word  was  on  his  mouth,  which 
had  drawn  lightning  to  Evan's  eyes. 

Not  to  be  baffled,  he  added :  "  But  look  you,  sir.  I  may 
be  ruined.  I  dare  say  the  Company  will  go  to  the  dogs  — 
every  ass  will  follow  a  Duke.  But,  mark,  this  goes  on  no 
more.  I  will  be  no  woman's  cully.  Mind,  sir,  I  take  excel- 
lent care  that  you  don't  traffic  in  your  sister ! " 

The  Major  delivered  this  culminating  remark  with  a  well- 
timed  deflection  of  his  forefinger,  and  slightly  turned  aside 
when  he  had  done. 

You  might  have  seen  Evan's  figure  rocking,  as  he  stood 
with  his  eyes  steadily  levelled  on  his  sister's  husband. 

The  Major,  who,  whatever  he  was,  was  physically  no 
coward,  did  not  fail  to  interpret  the  look,  and  challenge  it. 

Evan  walked  to  the  door,  opened  it,  and  said,  between  his 
teeth,  *'  You  must  go  at  once." 

"  Eh,  sir,  eh  ?  what's  this  ?  "  exclaimed  the  warrior :  but 
the  door  was  open,  Mr.  Goren  was  in  the  shop ;  the  scandal 
of  an  assault  in  such  a  house,  and  the  consequent  possibility 
of  his  matrimonial  alliance  becoming  bruited  in  the  news- 
papers, held  his  arm  after  it  had  given  an  involuntary  jerk. 
He  marched  through  with  becoming  dignity,  and  marched 
out  into-  the  street ;  and  if  necks  unelastic  and  heads  erect 
may  be  taken  as  the  sign  of  a  proud  soul  and  of  nobility  of 
mind,  my  artist  has  the  Major  for  his  model. 

Evan  displayed  no  such  a  presence.  He  returned  to  the 
little  parlour,  shut  and  locked  the  door  to  the  shop,  and  for- 
getting that  one  was  near,  sat  down,  covered  his  eyes,  and 
gave  way  to  a  fit  of  tearless  sobbing.  With  one  foot  in  the 
room  Caroline  hung  watching  him.  A  pain  that  she  had 
never  known  wrung  her  nerves.  His  whole  manhood 
seemed  to  be  shaken,  as  if  by  regular  pulsations  of  intensest 
misery.  She  stood  in  awe  of  the  sight  till  her  limbs  failed 
her,  and  then  staggering  to  him  she  fell  on  her  knees, 
clasping  his,  passionately  kissing  them. 


408  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

CHAPTER  XL 

IN  WHICH   THE   COUNTESS   STILL   SCENTS    GAME 

Mb.  Raikes  and  his  friend  Frank  Remand,  surnamed 
Franko,  to  suit  the  requirements  of  metre,  in  which  they 
habitually  conversed,  were  walking  arm-in-arm  along  the 
drive  in  Society's  Park  on  a  fine  frosty  Sunday  afternoon  of 
midwinter.  The  quips  and  jokes  of  Franko  were  lively,  and 
he  looked  into  the  carriages  passing,  as  if  he  knew  that  a 
cheerful  countenance  is  not  without  charms  for  their  in- 
mates. Raikes's  face,  on  the  contrary,  was  barren  and  bleak. 
Being  of  that  nature  that  when  a  pun  was  made  he  must 
perforce  outstrip  it,  he  fell  into  Franko's  humour  from  time 
to  time,  but  albeit  aware  that  what  he  uttered  was  good,  and 
by  comparison  transcendent,  he  refused  to  enjoy  it.  Nor 
when  Franko  started  from  his  arm  to  declaim  a  passage, 
did  he  do  other  than  make  limp  efforts  to  unite  himself  to 
Franko  again.  A  further  sign  of  immense  depression  in 
him  was  that  instead  of  the  creative,  it  was  the  critical 
faculty  he  exercised,,  and  rather  than  reply  to  Franko  in  his 
form  of  speech,  he  scanned  occasional  lines  and  objected  to 
particular  phrases.  He  had  clearly  exchanged  the  sanguine 
for  the  bilious  temperament,  and  was  fast  stranding  on  the 
rocky  shores  of  prose.  Franko  bore  this  very  well,  for  he, 
like  Raikes  in  happier  days,  claimed  all  the  glances  of 
lovely  woman  as  his  own,  and  on  his  right  there  flowed  a 
stream  of  Beauties.  At  last  he  was  compelled  to  observe : 
"  This  change  is  sudden :  wherefore  so  downcast  ?  With 
tigrine  claw  thou  mangiest  my  speech,  thy  cheeks  are  like 
December's  pippin,  and  thy  tongue  most  sour  !  " 

"  Then  of  it  make  a  farce  ! "  said  Raikes,  for  the  making 
of  farces  was  Franko's  profession.  "  Wherefore  so  down- 
cast !  what  a  line !  There !  let's  walk  on.  Let  us  the  left 
foot  forward  stout  advance.     I  care  not  for  the  herd." 

"  'Tis  love  !  "  cried  Franko. 

"  Ay,  an'  it  be  !  "  Jack  gloomily  returned. 

"  For  ever  cruel  is  the  sweet  Saldar  ?  " 

Raikes  winced  at  this  name. 


THE  COUNTESS   STILL  SCENTS   GAME  409 

"  A  truce  to  banter,  Franko  !  "  lie  said  sternly  :  but  the 
subject  was  opened,  and  the  wound. 

"  Love  !  "  he  pursued,  mildly  groaning.  "  Suppose  you 
adored  a  fascinating  woman,  and  she  knew  —  positively 
knew  —  your  manly  weakness,  and  you  saw  her  smiling 
upon  everybody,  and  she  told  you  to  be  happy,  and  egad, 
when  you  came  to  reflect,  you  found  that  after  three 
months'  suit  you  were  nothing  better  than  her  errand-boy  ? 
A  thing  to  boast  of,  is  it  not,  quotha  ?  " 

"  Love's  yellow-fever,  jealousy,  methinks,"  Franko 
commenced  in  reply ;  but  Raikes  spat  at  the  emphasized 
word. 

"Jealousy !  —  who's  jealous  of  clergymen  and  that  crew  ? 
Not  I,  by  Pluto  !  I  carried  five  messages  to  one  fellow  with 
a  coat-tail  straight  to  his  heels,  last  week.  She  thought  I 
should  drive  my  curricle  —  I  couldn't  afford  an  omnibus  ! 
I  had  to  run.  When  I  returned  to  her  I  was  dirty.  She 
made  remarks ! " 

"  Thy  sufferings  are  severe  —  but  such  is  woman ! "  said 
Franko.  "  'Gad,  it's  a  good  idea,  though."  He  took  out  a 
note-book  and  pencilled  down  a  point  or  two.  Raikes 
watched  the  process  sardonically. 

"  My  tragedy  is,  then,  thy  farce ! "  he  exclaimed.  "  Well, 
be  it  so !  I  believe  I  shall  come  to  song-writing  again  my- 
self shortly — beneath  the  shield  of  Catnach  I'll  a  nation's 
ballads  frame.  I've  spent  my  income  in  four  months,  and 
now  I'm  living  on  my  curricle.  I  underlet  it.  It's  like 
trade  —  it's  as  bad  as  poor  old  Harrington,  by  Jove! 
But  that  isn't  the  worst,  Franko ! "  Jack  dropped  his 
voice:  "I  believe  I'm  furiously  loved  by  a  poor  country 
wench." 

"  Morals  ! "  was  Franko's  most  encouraging  reproof. 

"  Oh,  I  don't  think  I've  even  kissed  her,"  rejoined  Raikes, 
who  doubted  because  his  imagination  was  vivid.  "  It's  my 
intellect  that  dazzles  her.  I've  got  letters  —  she  calls  me 
clever.  By  Jove !  since  I  gave  up  driving  I've  had  thoughts 
of  rushing  down  to  her  and  making  her  mine  in  spite  of 
home,  family,  fortune,  friends,  name,  position  —  everything ! 
I  have,  indeed." 

Franko  looked  naturally  astonished  at  this  amount  of 
self-sacrifice.     "  The  Countess  ?  "  he  shrewdly  suggested. 


410  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"  I'd  rather  be  my  Polly's  prince, 
Than  yon  great  lady's  errand-boy  I  " 

Eaikes  burst  into  song. 

He  stretched  out  Ms  hand,  as  if  to  discard  all  the  great 
ladies  who  were  passing.  By  the  strangest  misfortune  ever 
known,  the  direction  taken  by  his  fingers  was  toward  a 
carriage  wherein,  beautifully  smiling  opposite  an  elaborately 
reverend  gentleman  of  middle  age,  the  Countess  de  Saldar 
was  sitting.  This  great  lady  is  not  to  be  blamed  for  deem- 
ing that  her  errand-boy  was  pointing  her  out  vulgarly  on  a 
public  promenade.  Ineffable  disdain  curled  off  her  sweet 
olive  visage.     She  turned  her  head. 

"  I'll  go  down  to  that  girl  to-night,"  said  Raikes,  with 
compressed  passion.  And  then  he  hurried  Franko  along  to 
the  bridge,  where,  behold,  the  Countess  alighted  with  the 
gentleman,  and  walked  beside  him  into  the  gardens. 

"  Follow  her,"  said  Raikes,  in  agitation.  "  Do  you  see 
her  ?  by  yon  long-tailed  raven's  side  ?  Follow  her,  Franko ! 
See  if  he  kisses  her  hand  —  anything !  and  meet  me  here  in 
half-an-hour.     I'll  have  evidence !  " 

Franko  did  not  altogether  like  the  office,  but  Raikes's 
dinners,  singular  luck,  and  superiority  in  the  encounter  of 
puns,  gave  him  the  upper  hand  with  his  friend,  and  so 
Franko  went. 

Turning  away  from  the  last  glimpse  of  his  Countess, 
Raikes  crossed  the  bridge,  and  had  not  strolled  far  beneath 
the  bare  branches  of  one  of  the  long  green  walks,  when  he 
perceived  a  gentleman  with  two  ladies  leaning  on  him. 

"  Now,  there,"  moralized  this  youth ;  "  now,  what  do  you 
say  to  that  ?  Do  you  call  that  fair  ?  He  can't  be  happy, 
and  it's  not  in  nature  for  them  to  be  satisfied.  And  yet,  if  I 
went  up  and  attempted  to  please  them  all  by  taking  one 
away,  the  probabilities  are  that  he  would  knock  me  down. 
Such  is  life !     We  won't  be  made  comfortable  ! " 

Nevertheless,  he  passed  them  with  indifference,  for  it  was 
merely  the  principle  he  objected  to ;  and,  indeed,  he  was  so 
wrapped  in  his  own  conceptions,  that  his  name  had  to  be 
called  behind  him  twice  before  he  recognized  Evan  Har- 
rington, Mrs.  Strike,  and  Miss  Bonner.  The  arrangement 
he  had  previously  thought  good  was  then  spontaneously 


THE   COUNTESS   STILL   SCENTS   GAME  411 

adopted.  Mrs.  Strike  reposed  her  fair  hand  upon  his  arm, 
and  Juliana,  with  a  timid  glance  of  pleasure,  walked  ahead 
in  Evan's  charge.  Close  neighbourhood  between  the  couples 
was  not  kept.  The  genius  of  Mr.  Raikes  was  wasted  in 
manoeuvres  to  lead  his  beautiful  companion  into  places 
where  he  could  be  seen  with  her,  and  envied.  It  was,  per- 
haps, more  flattering  that  she  should  betray  a  marked  dis- 
position to  prefer  solitude  in  his  society.  But  this  idea 
illumined  him  only  near  the  moment  of  parting.  Then  he 
saw  it ;  then  he  groaned  in  soul,  and  besought  Evan  to  have 
one  more  promenade,  saying,  with  characteristic  cleverness 
in  the  masking  of  his  real  thoughts :  "  It  gives  us  an  appe- 
tite, you  know." 

In  Evan's  face  and  Juliana's  there  was  not  much  sign 
that  any  protraction  of  their  Avalk  together  would  aid  this 
beneficent  process  of  nature.  He  took  her  hand  gently,  and 
when  he  quitted  it,  it  dropped. 

"  The  Rose,  the  Rose  of  Beckley  Court ! "  Raikes  sang 
aloud.  "  Why,  this  is  a  day  of  meetings.  Behold  John 
Thomas  in  the  rear  —  a  tower  of  plush  and  powder !  Shall 
I  rush  —  shall  I  pluck  her  from  the  aged  stem  ?  " 

On  the  gravel-walk  above  them  Rose  passed  with  her 
aristocratic  grandmother,  muffled  in  furs.  She  marched 
deliberately,  looking  coldly  before  her.  Evan's  face  was 
white,  and  Juliana,  whose  eyes  were  fixed  on  him,  shud- 
dered. 

"I'm  chilled,"  she  murmured  to  Caroline.     "Let  us  go." 

Caroline  eyed  Evan  with  a  meaning  sadness. 

"We  will  hurry  to  our  carriage,"  she  said. 

They  were  seen  to  make  a  little  circuit  so  as  not  to 
approach  Rose;  after  whom,  thoughtless  of  his  cruelty, 
Evan  bent  his  steps  slowly,  halting  when  she  reached  her 
carriage.  He  believed  —  rather,  he  knew  that  she  had  seen 
him.  There  was  a  consciousness  in  the  composed  outlines 
of  her  face  as  she  passed :  the  indifference  was  too  perfect. 
Let  her  hate  him  if  she  pleased.  It  recompensed  him  that 
the  air  she  wore  should  make  her  appearance  more  womanly ; 
and  that  black  dress  and  crape-bonnet,  in  some  way,  touched 
him  to  mournful  thoughts  of  her  that  helped  a  partial  for- 
getfulness  of  wounded  self. 

Rose  haid  driven  off.     He  was  looking  at  the  same  spot, 


412  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

where  Caroline's  hand  waved  from  her  carriage.  Juliana 
was  not  seen.  Caroline  requested  her  to  nod  to  him  once, 
but  she  would  not.  She  leaned  back  hiding  her  eyes,  and 
moving  a  petulant  shoulder  at  Caroline's  hand. 

"  Has  he  offended  you,  my  child?  " 

Juliana  answered  harshly : 

"No  — no." 

The  wheels  rolled  on,  and  Caroline  tried  other  subjects, 
knowing  possi\)ly  that  they  would  lead  Juliana  back  to  this 
of  her  own  accord. 

"You  saw  how  she  treated  him?"  the  latter  presently 
said,  without  moving  her  hand  from  before  her  eyes. 

"Yes,  dear.     He  forgives  her,  and  will  forget  it." 

"  Oh !  "  she  clenched  her  long  thin  hand,  "  I  pray  that  I 
may  not  die  before  I  have  made  her  repent  it.    She  shall !  " 

Juliana  looked  glitteringly  in  Caroline's  face,  and  then 
fell  a-weeping,  and  suffered  herself  to  be  folded  and  ca- 
ressed.    The  storm  was  long  subsiding. 

"Dearest!  you  are  better  now? "  said  Caroline. 

She  whispered :  "Yes." 

"  My  brother  has  only  to  know  you,  dear " 

"Hush!  That's  past."  Juliana  stopped  her;  and,  on  a 
deep  breath  that  threatened  to  break  to  sobs,  she  added  in 
a  sweeter  voice  than  was  common  to  her,  "  Ah,  why  —  why 
did  you  tell  him  about  the  Beckley  property?" 

Caroline  vainly  strove  to  deny  that  she  had  told  him. 
Juliana's  head  shook  mournfully  at  her;  and  now  Caroline 
knew  what  Juliana  meant  when  she  begged  so  earnestly 
that  Evan  should  be  kept  ignorant  of  her  change  of  fortune. 

Some  days  after  this  the  cold  struck  Juliana's  chest,  and 
she  sickened.  The  three  sisters  held  a  sitting  to  consider 
what  it  was  best  to  do  with  her.  Caroline  proposed  to  take 
her  to  Beckley  without  delay.  Harriet  was  of  opinion  that 
the  least  they  could  do  was  to  write  to  her  relatives  and 
make  them  instantly  aware  of  her  condition. 

But  the  Countess  said  "No,"  to  both.  Her  argument 
was,  that  Juliana  being  independent,  they  were  by  no 
means  bound  to  "  bundle  "  her,  in  her  state,  back  to  a  place 
where  she  had  been  so  shamefully  maltreated:  that  here 
she  would  live,  while  there  she  would  certainly  die:  that 


THE   COUNTESS   STILL  SCENTS   GAME  413 

absence  of  excitement  was  her  medicine,  and  that  here  she 
had  it.  Mrs.  Andrew,  feeling  herself  responsible  as  the 
young  lady's  hostess,  did  not  acquiesce  in  the  Countess's 
views  till  she  had  consulted  Juliana;  and  then  apologies 
for  giving  trouble  were  breathed  on  the  one  hand;  sym- 
pathy, condolences,  and  professions  of  esteem,  on  the  other. 
Juliana  said,  she  was  but  slightly  ill,  would  soon  recover. 
Entreated  not  to  leave  them  before  she  was  thoroughly  re- 
established, and  to  consent  to  be  looked  on  as  one  of  the 
family,  she  sighed,  and  said  it  was  the  utmost  she  could 
hope.  Of  course  the  ladies  took  this  compliment  to  them- 
selves, but  Evan  began  to  wax  in  importance.  The  Countess 
thought  it  nearly  time  to  acknowledge  him,  and  supported 
the  idea  by  a  citation  of  the  doctrine,  that  to  forgive  is 
Christian.  It  happened,  however,  that  Harriet,  who  had 
less  art  and  more  will  than  her  sisters,  was  inflexible.  She, 
living  in  a  society  but  a  few  steps  above  Tailordom,  how- 
ever magnificent  in  expenditure  and  resources,  abhorred  it 
solemnly.  For  motives  of  prudence,  as  well  as  personal 
disgust,  she  continued  firm  in  declining  to  receive  her 
brother.  She  would  not  relent  when  the  Countess  pointed 
out  a  dim,  a  dazzling  prospect,  growing  out  of  Evan's  prox- 
imity to  the  heiress  of  Beckley  Court;  she  was  not  to  be 
moved  when  Caroline  suggested  that  the  specific  for  the 
frail  invalid  was  Evan's  presence.  As  to  this,  Juliana  was 
sufficiently  open,  though,  as  she  conceived,  her  art  was 
extreme. 

"Do  you  know  why  I  stay  to  vex  and  trouble  you?"  she 
asked  Caroline.  "Well,  then,  it  is  that  I  may  see  your 
brother  united  to  you  all:  and  then  I  shall  go,  happy." 

The  pretext  served  also  to  make  him  the  subject  of  many 
conversations.  Twice  a  week  a  bunch  of  the  best  flowers 
that  could  be  got  were  sorted  and  arranged  by  her,  and  sent 
namelessly  to  brighten  Evan's  chamber, 

"  I  may  do  such  a  thing  as  this,  you  know,  without  incur- 
ring blame,"  she  said. 

The  sight  of  a  love  so  humble  in  its  strength  and  afifluence 
sent  Caroline  to  Evan  on  a  fruitless  errand.  What  availed 
it,  that  accused  of  giving  lead  to  his  pride  in  refusing  the 
heiress,  Evan  should  declare  that  he  did  not  love  her?  He 
did  not,  Caroline  admitted  as  possible,  but  he  might.     He 


414  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

might  learn  to  love  her,  and  therefore  he  was  wrong  in 
wounding  her  heart.  She  related  flattering  anecdotes.  She 
drew  tearful  pictures  of  Juliana's  love  for  him;  and  notic- 
ing how  he  seemed  to  prize  his  bouquet  of  flowers,  said : 

"  Do  you  love  them  for  themselves,  or  the  hand  that  sent 
them?" 

Evan  blushed,  for  it  had  been  a  struggle  for  him  to  receive 
them,  as  he  thought,  from  Rose  in  secret.  The  flowers  lost 
their  value ;  the  song  that  had  arisen  out  of  them,  "  Thou 
livest  in  my  memory,"  ceased.  But  they  came  still.  How 
many  degrees  from  love  gratitude  may  be,  I  have  not  reck- 
oned. I  rather  fear  it  lies  on  the  opposite  shore.  From  a 
youth  to  a  girl,  it  may  yet  be  very  tender;  the  more  so, 
because  their  ages  commonly  exclude  such  a  sentiment,  and 
nature  seems  willing  to  make  a  transition  stage  of  it.  Evan 
wrote  to  Juliana.  Incidentally  he  expressed  a  wish  to  see 
her.  Juliana  was  under  doctor's  interdict:  but  she  was 
not  to  be  prevented  from  going  when  Evan  wished  her  to 
go.  They  met  in  the  park,  as  before,  and  he  talked  to  her 
five  minutes  through  the  carriage  window. 

"  Was  it  worth  the  risk,  my  poor  child?  "  said  Caroline, 
pityingly. 

Juliana  cried :  "  Oh !  I  would  give  anything  to  live ! " 

A  man  might  have  thought  that  she  made  no  direct 
answer. 

"Don't  you  think  I  am  patient?  Don't  you  think  I  am 
very  patient?  "  she  asked  Caroline,  winningly,  on  their  way 
home. 

Caroline  could  scarcely  forbear  from  smiling  at  the  fever- 
ish anxiety  she  showed  for  a  reply  that  should  confirm  her 
words  and  hopes. 

"  So  we  must  all  be ! "  she  said,  and  that  common-place 
remark  caused  Juliana  to  exclaim :  "  Prisoners  have  lived 
in  a  dungeon,  on  bread  and  water,  for  years !  " 

Whereat  Caroline  kissed  her  so  tenderly  that  Juliana 
tried  to  look  surprised,  and  failing,  her  thin  lips  quivered; 
she  breathed  a  soft  "hush,"  and  fell  on  Caroline's  bosom. 

She  was  transparent  enough  in  one  thing;  but  the  flame 
which  burned  within  her  did  not  light  her  through.  Others, 
on  other  matters,  were  quite  as  transparent  to  her.  Caro- 
line never  knew  that  she  had  as  much  as  told  her  the  moral 


THE  COUNTESS  STILL   SCENTS   GAME  415 

suicide  Evan  had  committed  at  Beckley ;  so  cunningly  had 
she  been  probed  at  intervals  with  little  casual  questions; 
random  interjections,  that  one  who  loved  him  could  not  fail 
to  meet;  petty  doubts  requiring  elucidations.  And  the 
Countess,  kind  as  her  sentiments  had  grown  toward  the 
afflicted  creature,  was  compelled  to  proclaim  her  densely 
stupid  in  material  affairs.  For  the  Countess  had  an  itch 
of  the  simplest  feminine  curiosity  to  know  whether  the 
dear  child  had  any  notion  of  accomplishing  a  certain  holy 
duty  of  the  perishable  on  this  earth,  who  might  possess 
worldly  goods;  and  no  hints  —  not  even  plain  speaking, 
would  do.     Juliana  did  not  understand  her  at  all. 

The  Countess  exhibited  a  mourning-ring  on  her  finger, 
Mrs.  Bonner's  bequest  to  her. 

"How  fervent  is  my  gratitude  to  my  excellent  departed 
friend  for  this  !  A  legacy,  however  trifling,  embalms  our 
dear  lost  ones  in  the  memory ! " 

It  was  of  no  avail.  Juliana  continued  densely  stupid. 
Was  she  not  worse  ?  The  Countess  could  not,  "  in  decency," 
as  she  observed,  reveal  to  her  who  had  prompted  Mrs.  Bon- 
ner so  to  bequeath  the  Beckley  estates  as  to  "  ensure  sweet 
Juliana's  future ; "  but  ought  not  Juliana  to  divine  it  ?  — 
Juliana  at  least  had  hints  sufficient. 

Cold  Spring  winds  were  now  blowing.  Juliana  had  re- 
sided no  less  than  two  months  with  the  Cogglesbys.  She 
was  entreated  still  to  remain,  and  she  did.  From  Lady 
Jocelyn  she  heard  not  a  word  of  remonstrance;  but  from 
Miss  Carrington  and  Mrs.  Shorne  she  received  admonishing 
letters.  Finally,  Mr.  Harry  Jocelyn  presented  himself. 
In  London,  and  without  any  of  that  needful  subsistance 
which  a  young  gentleman  feels  the  want  of  in  London  more 
than  elsewhere,  Harry  began  to  have  thoughts  of  his  own, 
without  any  instigation  from  his  aunts,  about  devoting  him- 
self to  business.  So  he  sent  his  card  up  to  his  cousin,  and 
was  graciously  met  in  the  drawing-room  by  the  Countess, 
who  ruffled  him  and  smoothed  him,  and  would  possibly  have 
distracted  his  soul  from  business  had  his  circumstances  been 
less  straitened.  Juliana  was  declared  to  be  too  unwell  to 
see  him  that  day.  He  called  a  second  time,  and  enjoyed  a 
similar  greeting.     His  third  visit  procured  him  an  audience 


416  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

alone  with  Juliana,  when,  at  once,  despite  the  warnings  of 
his  aunts,  the  frank  fellow  plunged,  medias  res.  Mrs.  Bon- 
ner had  left  him  totally  dependent  on  his  parents  and  his 
chances. 

"  A  desperate  state  of  things,  isn't  it,  Juley  ?  I  think  I 
shall  go  for  a  soldier  —  common,  you  know." 

Instead  of  shrieking  out  against  such  a  debasement  of  his 
worth  and  gentility,  as  was  to  be  expected,  Juliana  said : 

"  That's  what  Mr.  Harrington  thought  of  doing." 

"He !    If  he'd  had  the  pluck  he  would." 

"  His  duty  forbade  it,  and  he  did  not." 

"  Duty !  a  confounded  tailor !  What  fools  we  were  to 
have  him  at  Beckley ! " 

"  Has  the  Countess  been  unkind  to  you,  Harry  ?  " 

"  I  haven't  seen  her  to-day,  and  don't  want  to.  It's  my 
little  dear  old  Juley  I  came  for." 

"  Dear  Harry ! "  she  thanked  him  with  eyes  and  hands. 
"  Come  often,  won't  you  ?  " 

"  Why,  ain't  you  coming  back  to  us,  Juley  ?  " 

"Not  yet.  They  are  very  kind  to  me  here.  How  is 
Rose?" 

"Oh,  quite  jolly.  She  and  Ferdinand  are  thick  again. 
Balls  every  night.  She  dances  like  the  deuce.  They  want 
me  to  go ;  but  I  ain't  the  sort  of  figure  for  those  places,  and 
besides,  I  shan't  dance  till  I  can  lead  you  out." 

A  spur  of  laughter  at  Harry's  generous  nod  brought  on 
Juliana's  cough.  Harry  watched  her  little  body  shaken  and 
her  reddened  eyes.  Some  real  emotion  —  perhaps  the  fear 
which  healthy  young  people  experience  at  the  sight  of 
deadly  disease  —  made  Harry  touch  her  arm  with  the  soft- 
ness of  a  child's  touch. 

"Don't  be  alarmed,  Harry,"  she  said.  "It's  nothing  — 
only  Winter.     I'm  determined  to  get  well." 

"That's  right,"  quoth  he,  recovering.  "I  know  you've 
got  pluck,  or  you  wouldn't  have  stood  that  operation." 

"  Let  me  see :  when  was  that  ?  "  she  asked  slyly. 

Harry  coloured,  for  it  related  to  a  time  when  he  had  not 
behaved  prettily  to  her. 

"There,  Juley,  that's  all  forgotten.  I  was  a  fool  —  a 
scoundrel,  if  you  like.     I'm  sorry  for  it  now." 

"  Do  you  want  money,  Harry  ?  " 


THE  COUNTESS   STILL  SCENTS   GAME  417 

"  Oh,  money ! " 

"  Have  you  repaid  Mr.  Harrington  yet  ?  " 

"  There  —  no,  I  haven't.  Bother  it !  that  fellow's  name's 
always  on  your  tongue.  I'll  tell  you  what,  Juley  —  but  it's 
no  use.     He's  a  low,  vulgar  adventurer." 

"Dear  Harry,"  said  Juliana,  softly;  "don't  bring  your 
aunts  with  you  when  you  come  to  see  me." 

"  Well,  then  I'll  tell  you,  Juley.  It's  enough  that  he's  a 
beastly  tailor." 

"  Quite  enough,"  she  responded ;  "  and  he  is  neither  a  fool 
nor  a  scoundrel." 

Harry's  memory  for  his  own  speech  was  not  quick. 
When  Juliana's  calm  glance  at  him  called  it  up,  he  jumped 
from  his  chair,  crying :  "  Upon  my  honour,  I'll  tell  you 
what,  Juley!  If  I  had  money  to  pay  him  to-morrow,  I'd 
insult  him  on  the  spot." 

Juliana  meditated,  and  said :  "  Then  all  your  friends  must 
wish  you  to  continue  poor." 

This  girl  had  once  been  on  her  knees  to  him.  She  had 
looked  up  to  him  with  admiring  love,  and  he  had  given  her  a 
crumb  or  so  occasionally,  thinking  her  something  of  a  fool, 
and  more  of  a  pest ;  but  now  he  could  not  say  a  word  to  her 
without  being  baffled  in  an  elderly-sisterly  tone  exasperating 
him  so  far  that  he  positively  wished  to  marry  her,  and  com- 
ing to  the  point,  offered  himself  with  downright  sincerity, 
and  was  rejected.  Harry  left  in  a  passion.  Juliana  con- 
fided the  secret  to  Caroline,  who  suggested  interested  mo- 
tives, which  Juliana  would  not  hear  of. 

"Ah,"  said  the  Countess,  when  Caroline  mentioned  the 
case  to  her,  "of  course  the  poor  thing  cherishes  her  first 
offer.  She  would  believe  a  curate  to  be  disinterested !  But 
mind  that  Evan  has  due  warning  when  she  is  to  meet  him. 
Mind  that  he  is  dressed  becomingly." 

Caroline  asked  why. 

"  Because,  my  dear,  she  is  enamoured  of  his  person. 
These  little  unhealthy  creatures  are  always  attracted  by 
the  person.  She  thinks  it  to  be  Evan's  qualities.  I  know 
better :  it  is  his  person.  Beckley  Court  may  be  lost  by  a 
shabby  coat ! " 

The  Countess  had  recovered  from  certain  spiritual  lan- 
guors into  which  she  had  fallen  after  her  retreat.     Ultimate 


418  EVAN   HARRINGTON 

victory  hung  still  in  the  balance.  Oh !  if  Evan  would  only 
marry  this  little  sufferer,  who  was  so  sure  to  die  within  a 
year !  or,  if  she  lived  (for  marriage  has  often  been  as  a  res- 
urrection to  some  poor  female  invalids),  there  was  Beckley 
Court,  a  splendid  basis  for  future  achievements.  Reflecting 
in  this  fashion,  the  Countess  pardoned  her  brother.  Glow- 
ing hopes  hung  fresh  lamps  in  her  charitable  breast.  She 
stepped  across  the  threshold  of  Tailordom,  won  Mr.  Goren's 
heart  by  her  condescension,  and  worked  Evan  into  a  sorrow- 
ful mood  concerning  the  invalid.  Was  not  Juliana  his  only 
active  friend?  In  return,  he  said  things  which  only  re- 
quired a  little  colouring  to  be  very  acceptable  to  her.  The 
game  waxed  exciting  again.  The  enemy  (the  Jocelyn  party) 
was  alert,  but  powerless.  The  three  sisters  were  almost 
wrought  to  perform  a  sacrifice  far  exceeding  Evan's.  They 
nearly  decided  to  summon  him  to  the  house:  but  the  matter 
being  broached  at  table  one  evening,  Major  Strike  objected 
to  it  so  angrily  that  they  abandoned  it,  with  the  satisfactory 
conclusion  that  if  they  did  wrong  it  was  the  Major's  fault. 

Meantime  Juliana  had  much  on  her  conscience.  She 
knew  Evan  to  be  innocent,  and  she  allowed  Rose  to  think 
him  guilty.  Could  she  bring  her  heart  to  join  them  ?  That 
was  not  in  her  power :  but  desiring  to  be  lulled  by  a  com- 
promise, she  devoted  herself  to  make  his  relatives  receive 
him ;  and  on  days  of  bitter  winds  she  would  drive  out  to 
meet  him,  answering  all  expostulations  with  —  "I  should 
not  go  if  he  were  here." 

The  game  waxed  hot.  It  became  a  question  whether 
Evan  should  be  admitted  to  the  house  in  spite  of  the  Major. 
Juliana  now  made  an  extraordinary  move.  Having  the 
Count  with  her  in  the  carriage  one  day,  she  stopped  in  front 
of  Mr.  Goren's  shop,  and  Evan  had  to  come  out.  The  Count 
returned  home  extremely  mystified.  Once  more  the  un- 
happy Countess  was  obliged  to  draw  bills  on  the  fabulous ; 
and  as  she  had  recommenced  the  system,  which  was  not 
without  its  fascinations  to  her,  Juliana,  who  had  touched 
the  spring,  had  the  full  benefit  of  it.  The  Countess  had 
deceived  her  before  —  what  of  that?  She  spoke  things 
sweet  to  hear.  Who  could  be  false  that  gave  her  heart 
food  on  which  it  lived  ? 

One  night  Juliana  returned  from  her  drive  alarmingly  ill. 


PLOT   OF   THE   BROTHERS   COGGLESBY  419 

She  was  watched  through  the  night  by  Caroline  and  the 
Countess  alternately.     In  the  morning  the  sisters  met. 

"She  has  consented  to  let  us  send  for  a  doctor,"  said 
Caroline. 

"Her  chief  desire  seems  to  be  a  lawyer,"  said  the  Countess. 

"  Yes,  but  the  doctor  must  be  sent  for  first." 

"Yes,  indeed!  But  it  behoves  us  to  previse  that  the 
doctor  does  not  kill  her  before  the  lawyer  comes." 

Caroline  looked  at  Louisa,  and  said :  "  Are  you  ignorant  ?  " 

"  No  —  what  ?  "  cried  the  Countess  eagerly. 

"  Evan  has  written  to  tell  Lady  Jocelyn  the  state  of  her 
health,  and  —  " 

"  And  that  naturally  has  aggravated  her  malady !  "  The 
Countess  cramped  her  long  fingers.  "The  child  heard  it 
from  him  yesterday !     Oh,  I  could  swear  at  that  brother ! " 

She  dropped  into  a  chair  and  sat  rigid  and  square-jawed,  a 
sculpture  of  unutterable  rage. 

In  the  afternoon  Lady  Jocelyn  arrived.  The  doctor  was 
there  —  the  lawyer  had  gone.  Without  a  word  of  protest 
Juliana  accompanied  her  ladyship  to  Beckley  Court.  Here 
was  a  blow ! 

But  Andrew  was  preparing  one  more  mighty  still.  What 
if  the  Cogglesby  Brewery  proved  a  basis  most  unsound  ? 
Where  must  they  fall  then  ?  Alas !  on  that  point  whence 
they  sprang.     If  not  to  Perdition  —  Tailordom ! 


CHAPTER  XLI 

REVEALS   AN   ABOMINABLE   PLOT   OP   THE   BROTHEES 
COGGLESBY 

A  LIVELY  April  day,  with  strong  gusts  from  the  South-west, 
and  long  sweeping  clouds,  saluted  the  morning  coach  from 
London  to  Lymport.  Thither  Tailordom  triumphant  was 
bearing  its  victim  at  a  rattling  pace,  to  settle  him,  and  seal 
him  for  ever  out  of  the  ranks  of  gentlemen :  Society,  mean- 
time, howling  exclusion  to  him  in  the  background :  "  Out  of 
our  halls,  degraded  youth :  The  smiles  of  turbaned  matrons : 


420  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

the  sighs  of  delicate  maids ;  genial  wit,  educated  talk,  refined 
scandal,  vice  in  harness,  dinners  sentineled  by  stately  plush : 
these,  the  flavour  of  life,  are  not  for  you,  though  you  stole  a 
taste  of  them,  wretched  impostor !  Pay  for  it  with  years  of 
remorse ! " 

The  coach  went  rushing  against  the  glorious  high  wind. 
It  stirred  his  blood,  freshened  his  cheeks,  gave  a  bright  tone 
of  zest  to  his  eyes,  as  he  cast  them  on  the  young  green 
country.  Not  banished  from  the  breath  of  heaven,  or  from 
self-respect,  or  from  the  appetite  for  the  rewards  that  are  to 
follow  duties  done !  Not  banished  from  the  help  that  is  always 
reached  to  us  when  we  have  fairly  taken  the  right  road: 
and  that  for  him  is  the  road  to  Lymport.  Let  the  kingdom 
of  Gilt  Gingerbread  howl  as  it  will !  We  are  no  longer 
children,  but  men :  men  who  have  bitten  hard  at  experience, 
and  know  the  value  of  a  tooth:  who  have  had  our  hearts 
bruised,  and  cover  them  with  armour :  who  live  not  to  feed, 
but  look  to  food  that  we  may  live !  What  matters  it  that 
yonder  high-spiced  kingdom  should  excommunicate  such  as 
we  are  ?  We  have  rubbed  off  the  gilt,  and  have  assumed  the 
command  of  our  stomachs.     We  are  men  from  this  day ! 

Now,  you  would  have  thought  Evan's  companions,  right 
and  left  of  him,  were  the  wretches  under  sentence,  to  judge 
from  appearances.  In  contrast  with  his  look  of  insolent 
pleasure,  Andrew,  the  moment  an  eye  was  on  him,  exhibited 
the  cleverest  impersonation  of  the  dumps  ever  seen :  while 
Mr.  Raikes  was  from  head  to  foot  nothing  better  than  a 
moan  made  visible.  Nevertheless,  they  both  agreed  to  rally 
Evan,  and  bid  him  be  of  good  cheer. 

"Don't  be  down.  Van;  don't  be  down,  my  boy,"  said 
Andrew,  rubbing  his  hands  gloomily. 

"  I  ?  do  I  look  it  ?  "  Evan  answered,  laughing. 

"  Capital  acting ! "  exclaimed  Raikes.  "  Try  and  keep  it  up." 

"  Well,  I  hope  you're  acting  too,"  said  Evan. 

Raikes  let  his  chest  fall  like  a  collapsing  bellows. 

At  the  end  of  five  minutes,  he  remarked :  "  I've  been 
sitting  on  it  the  whole  morning!  There's  violent  inflamma- 
tion, I'm  persuaded.  Another  hour,  and  I  jumb  slap  from 
the  summit  of  the  coach ! " 

Evan  turned  to  Andrew. 

"Do  you  think  he'll  be  let  ofE?" 


PLOT   OF   THE  BROTHERS   COGGLESBY  421 

"  Mr.  Eaikes  ?  Can't  say.  You  see,  Van,  it  depends  upon 
how  Old  Tom  has  taken  his  bad  luck.  Ahem !  Perhaps 
he'll  be  all  the  stricter ;  and  as  a  man  of  honour,  Mr.  Raikes, 
you  see,  can't  very  well " 

"  By  Jove !  I  wish  I  wasn't  a  man  of  honour ! "  Raikes 
interposed,  heavily. 

"You  see.  Van,  Old  Tom's  circumstances"  —  Andrew 
ducked,  to  smother  a  sort  of  laughter  —  "are  now  such  that 
he'd  be  glad  of  the  money  to  let  him  off,  no  doubt;  but  Mr. 
Raikes  has  spent  it,  I  can't  lend  it,  and  you  haven't  got  it, 
and  there  we  all  are.  At  the  end  of  the  year  he's  free,  and 
he  —  ha !  ha !  I'm  not  a  bit  the  merrier  for  laughing,  I  can 
tell  you." 

Catching  another  glimpse  of  Evan's  serious  face,  Andrew 
fell  into  louder  laughter ;  checking  it  with  doleful  solemnity. 

Up  hill  and  down  hill,  and  past  little  homesteads  shining 
with  yellow  crocuses;  across  wide  brown  heaths,  whose  out- 
lines raised  in  Evan's  mind  the  night  of  his  funeral  walk, 
and  tossed  up  old  feelings  dead  as  the  whirling  dust.  At 
last  Raikes  called  out : 

"The  towers  of  Fallowfield, —  heigho!  " 

And  Andrew  said : 

"Now  then.  Van:  if  Old  Tom's  anywhere,  he's  here. 
You  get  down  at  the  Dragon,  and  don't  you  talk  to  me,  but 
let  me  go  in.  It'll  be  just  the  hour  he  dines  in  the  country. 
Isn't  it  a  shame  of  him  to  make  me  face  every  man  of  the 
creditors  —  eh?" 

Evan  gave  Andrew's  hand  an  affectionate  squeeze,  at 
which  Andrew  had  to  gulp  down  something  —  reciprocal 
emotion,  doubtless. 

"Hark,"  said  Raikes,  as  the  horn  of  the  guard  was  heard. 
"  Once  that  sound  used  to  set  me  caracoling  before  an  abject 
multitude.  I  did  wonders.  All  London  looked  on  me !  It 
had  more  effect  on  me  than  champagne.  Kow  I  hear  it  — 
the  whole  charm  has  vanished!  I  can't  see  a  single  old 
castle.  Would  you  have  thought  it  possible  that  a  small 
circular  bit  of  tin  on  a  man's  person  could  produce  such 
changes  in  him?" 

"You  are  a  donkey  to  wear  it,"  said  Evan. 

"  I  pledged  my  word  as  a  gentleman,  and  thought  it  small, 
for  the  money!"  said  Raikes.     "This  is  the  first  coach  I 


422  EVAN  HARBINGTON 

ever  travelled  on,  without  making  tlie  old  whip  burst  with 
laughing.  I'm  not  myself.  I'm  haunted.  I'm  somebody 
else." 

The  three  passengers  having  descended,  a  controversy 
commenced  between  Evan  and  Andrew  as  to  which  should 
pay.  Evan  had  his  money  out;  Andrew  dashed  it  behind 
him;  Evan  remonstrated. 

"  Well,  you  mustn't  pay  for  us  two,  Andrew.  I  would 
have  let  you  do  it  once,  but  —  " 

"  Stuff !  "  cried  Andrew.  "  /  ain't  paying  —  it's  the 
creditors  of  the  estate,  my  boy !  " 

Evan  looked  so  ingenuously  surprised  and  hurt  at  his 
lack  of  principle,  that  Andrew  chucked  a  sixpence  at  a  small 
boy,  saying,— 

"If  you  don't  let  me  have  my  own  way.  Van,  I'll  shy  my 
purse  after  it.  What  do  you  mean,  sir,  by  treating  me  like 
a  beggar?" 

"  Our  friend  Harrington  canH  humour  us,"  quoth  Raikes. 
"For  myself,  I  candidly  confess  I  prefer  being  paid  for;" 
and  he  leaned  contentedly  against  one  of  the  posts  of  the 
inn  till  the  filthy  dispute  was  arranged  to  the  satisfaction 
of  the  ignobler  mind.  There  Andrew  left  them,  and  went 
to  Mrs.  Sockley,  who,  recovered  from  her  illness,  smiled 
her  usual  placid  welcome  to  a  guest. 

"You  know  me,  ma'am?" 

"  Oh,  yes !     The  London  Mr.  Cogglesby ! " 

"Now,  ma'am,  look  here,  I've  come  for  my  brother. 
Don't  be  alarmed.  No  danger  as  yet.  But,  mind !  if  you 
attempt  to  conceal  him  from  his  lawful  brother,  I'll  summon 
here  the  myrmidons  of  the  law." 

Mrs.  Sockley  showed  a  serious  face. 

"You  know  his  habits,  Mr.  Cogglesby ;  and  one  doesn't 
go  against  any  one  of  his  whimsies,  or  there's  consequences : 
but  the  house  is  open  to  you,  sir.    /don't  wish  to  hide  him." 

Andrew  accepted  this  intelligent  evasion  of  Tom  Cog- 
glesby's  orders  as  sufficient,  and  immediately  proceeded 
up-stairs.  A  door  shut  on  the  first  landing.  Andrew  went 
to  this  door  and  knocked.  No  answer.  He  tried  to  open 
it,  but  found  that  he  had  been  forestalled.  After  threaten- 
ing to  talk  business  through  the  key-hole,  the  door  was 
unlocked,  and  Old  Tom  appeared. 


PLOT  OP  THE  BROTHERS   COGGLESBY  423 

"So!  now  you're  dogging  me  into  the  country.  Be  off; 
make  an  appointment.  Saturday's  my  holiday.  You  know 
that." 

Andrew  pushed  through  the  doorway,  and,  by  way  of  an 
emphatic  reply  and  a  silencing  one,  delivered  a  punch  slap 
into  Old  Tom's  belt. 

"  Confound  you,  Nan ! "  said  Old  Tom,  grimacing,  but 
friendly,  as  if  his  sympathies  had  been  irresistibly  assailed. 

"It's  done,  Tom!  I've  done  it.  Won  my  bet,  now," 
Andrew  exclaimed.  "  The  women  —  poor  creatures !  What 
a  state  they're  in.     I  pity  'em." 

Old  Tom  pursed  his  lips,  and  eyed  his  brother  incredu- 
lously, but  with  curious  eagerness. 

"  Oh,  Lord!  what  a  face  I've  had  to  wear!  "  Andrew  con- 
tinued, and  while  he  sank  into  a  chair  and  rubbed  his 
handkerchief  over  his  crisp  hair.  Old  Tom  let  loose  a  con- 
vinced and  exulting,  "ha!  ha!" 

"Yes,  you  may  laugh.  I've  had  all  the  bother,"  said 
Andrew. 

"  Serve  ye  right — marrying  such  cattle,"  Old  Tom  snapped 
at  him. 

"  They  believe  we're  bankrupt  —  owe  fifty  thousand  clear, 
Tom!" 

"Ha!  ha!" 

"Brewery  stock  and  household  furniture  to  be  sold  by 
general  auction,  Friday  w.eek." 

"Ha!  ha!" 

"  Not  a  place  for  any  of  us  to  poke  our  heads  into.  I 
talked  about  'pitiless  storms  '  to  my  poor  Harry  —  no  shelter 
to  be  had  unless  we  go  down  to  Lymport,  and  stop  with 
their  brother  in  shop !  " 

Old  Tom  did  enjoy  this.  He  took  a  great  gulp  of  air  for 
a  tremendous  burst  of  laughter,  and  when  this  was  expended 
and  reflection  came,  his  features  screwed,  as  if  the  acidest 
of  flavours  had  ravished  his  palate. 

"Bravo,  Nan!  Didn't  think  you  were  man  enough.  Ha! 
ha!  Nan  —  I  say  —  eh?  how  did  ye  get  on  behind  the  cur- 
tains?" 

The  tale,  to  guess  by  Andrew's  face,  appeared  to  be  too 
strongly  infused  with  pathos  for  revelation. 

"Will  they  go,  Nan,  eh?  d'ye  think  they'll  go?" 


424  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"Where  else  can  they  go,  Tom?  They  must  go  there,  or 
on  the  parish,  you  know." 

"  They*^!!  all  troop  down  to  the  young  tailor  —  eh?  " 

"They  can't  sleep  in  the  parks,  Tom." 

"  No.  They  can't  get  into  Buckingham  Palace,  neither 
—  'cept  as  housemaids.  'Gad,  they're  howling  like  cats, 
I'd  swear  —  nuisance  to  the  neighbourhood  —  ha!  ha!  " 

Old  Tom's  cruel  laughter  made  Andrew  feel  for  the  un- 
happy ladies.  He  struck  his  forehead,  and  leaned  forward, 
saying:  "I  don't  know  —  'pon  my  honour,  I  don't  know  — 
can't  think  we've  quite  done  right  to  punish  'em  so." 

This  acted  like  cold  water  on  Old  Tom's  delight.  He 
pitched  it  back  in  the  shape  of  a  doubt  of  what  Andrew 
had  told  him.  Whereupon  Andrew  defied  him  to  face  three 
miserable  women  on  the  verge  of  hysterics;  and  Old  Tom, 
beginning  to  chuckle  again,  rejoined  that  it  would  bring 
them  to  their  senses,  and  emancipate  him. 

"You  may  laugh,  Mr.  Tom,"  said  Andrew;  "but  if  poor 
Harry  should  find  me  out,  deuce  a  bit  more  home  for  me." 

Old  Tom  looked  at  him  keenly,  and  rapped  the  table. 
"Swear  you  did  it,  Nan." 

"You  promise  you'll  keep  the  secret,"  said  Andrew. 

"Never  make  promises." 

"Then  there's  a  pretty  life  for  me!  I  did  it  for  that 
poor  dear  boy.  You  were  only  up  to  one  of  your  jokes  —  I 
see  that.  Confound  you.  Old  Tom,  you've  been  making  a 
fool  of  me." 

The  flattering  charge  was  not  rejected  by  Old  Tom,  who 
now  had  his  brother  to  laugh  at  as  well.  Andrew  affected 
to  be  indignant  and  desperate. 

"  If  you'd  had  a  heart,  Tom,  you'd  have  saved  the  poor 
fellow  without  any  bother  at  all.  What  do  you  think? 
When  I  told  him  of  our  smash — ha!  ha!  it  isn't  such  a 
bad  joke  —  well,  I  went  to  him,  hanging  my  head,  and  he 
offered  to  arrange  our  affairs  —  that  is  —  " 

"  Damned  meddlesome  young  dog !  "  cried  Old  Tom,  quite 
in  a  rage. 

"There  —  you're  up  in  a  twinkling,"  said  Andrew. 
"Don't  you  see  he  believed  it,  you  stupid  Old  Tom?  Lord! 
to  hear  him  say  how  sorry  he  was,  and  to  see  how  glad  he 
looked  at  the  chance  of  serving  us ! " 


PLOT   OF   THE  BROTHERS   COGGLESBY  4^6 

"  Serving  us !  "  Tom  sneered. 

"Ha!"  went  Andrew.  "Yes.  There.  You're  a  deuced 
deal  prouder  than  fifty  peers.  You're  an  upside-down  old 
despot! " 

No  sharper  retort  rising  to  Old  Tom's  lips,  he  permitted 
his  brother's  abuse  of  him  to  pass,  declaring  that  bandying 
words  was  not  his  business,  he  not  being  a  Parliament  man. 

"How  about  the  Major,  Nan?    He  coming  down,  too?" 

"  Major !  "  cried  Andrew.  "  Lucky  if  he  keeps  his  com- 
mission.    Coming  down?    No.     He's  off  to  the  Continent." 

"Find  plenty  of  scamps  there  to  keep  him  company," 
added  Tom.     "  So  he's  broke  —  eh?  ha !  ha !  " 

"Tom,"  said  Andrew,  seriously,  "I'll  tell  you  all  about 
it,  if  you'll  swear  not  to  split  on  me,  because  it  would  really 
upset  poor  Harry  so.  She'd  think  me  such  a  beastly  hypo- 
crite, I  couldn't  face  her  afterwards." 

" Lose  what  pluck  you  have  —  eh?  "  Tom  jerked  out  his 
hand,  and  bade  his  brother  continue. 

Compelled  to  trust  in  him  without  a  promise,  Andrew 
said:  "Well,  then,  after  we'd  arranged  it,  I  went  back  to 
Harry,  and  begged  her  to  have  poor  Van  at  the  house :  told 
her  what  I  hoped  you'd  do  for  him  about  getting  him  into 
the  Brewery.  She's  very  kind,  Tom,  'pon  my  honour  she 
is.     She  was  willing,  only  —  " 

"Only  — eh?" 

"  Well,  she  was  so  afraid  it'd  hurt  her  sisters  to  see  him 
there." 

Old  Tom  saw  he  was  in  for  excellent  fun,  and  wouldn't 
spoil  it  for  the  world. 

"Yes,  Nan?" 

"So  I  went  to  Caroline.  She  was  easy  enough;  and  she 
went  to  the  Countess." 

"Well,  and  she—?" 

"  She  was  willing,  too,  till  Lady  Jocelyn  came  and  took 
Miss  Bonner  home  to  Beckley,  and  because  Evan  had  written 
to  my  lady  to  fetch  her,  the  Countess  —  she  was  angry. 
That  was  all.  Because  of  that,  you  know.  But  yet  she 
agreed.  But  when  Miss  Bonner  had  gone,  it  turned  out 
that  the  Major  was  the  obstacle.  They  were  all  willing 
enough  to  have  Evan  there,  but  the  Major  refused.  I  didn't 
hear  him.     I  wasn't  going  to  ask  him.     I  mayn't  be  a  match 


426  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

for  three  women,  but  man  to  man,  eh,  Tom?  You'd  back 
me  there?  So  Harry  said  the  Major 'd  make  Caroline  miser- 
able, if  his  wishes  were  disrespected.  By  George,  I  wish 
I'd  known,  then.  Don't  you  think  it  odd,  Tom,  now? 
There's  a  Duke  of  Belfield  the  fellow  had  hooked  into  his 
Company ;  and  —  through  Evan  I  heard  —  the  Duke  had  his 
name  struck  off.  After  that,  the  Major  swore  at  the  Duke 
once  or  twice,  and  said  Caroline  wasn't  to  go  out  with  him. 
Suddenly,  he  insists  that  she  sJiall  go.  Days  the  poor  thing 
kept  crying!  One  day,  he  makes  her  go.  She  hasn't  the 
spirit  of  my  Harry  or  lihe  Countess.  By  good  luck.  Van, 
who  was  hunting  ferns  for  some  friends  of  his,  met  them  on 
Sunday  in  Richmond  Park,  and  Van  took  her  away  from  the 
Duke.  But,  Tom,  think  of  Van  seeing  a  fellow  watching 
her  wherever  she  went,  and  hearing  the  Duke's  coachman 
tell  that  fellow  he  had  orders  to  drive  his  master  and  a  lady 
hard  on  to  the  sea  that  night.  I  don't  believe  it  —  it  wasn't 
Caroline !  But  what  do  you  think  of  our  finding  out  that 
beast  of  a  spy  to  be  in  the  Major's  pay  ?  We  did.  Van  put 
a  constable  on  his  track ;  we  found  him  out,  and  he  con- 
fessed it.  A  fact,  Tom !  That  decided  me.  If  it  was  only 
to  get  rid  of  a  brute,  I  determined  I'd  do  it,  and  I  did. 
Strike  came  to  me  to  get  my  name  for  a  bill  that  night. 
'Gad,  he  looked  blanker  than  his  bill  when  he  heard  of  us 
two  bankrupt.  I  showed  him  one  or  two  documents  I'd  got 
ready.  Says  he :  *  Never  mind ;  it'll  only  be  a  couple  of  hun- 
dred more  in  the  schedule.'  Stop,  Tom !  he's  got  some  of  our 
blood.  I  don't  think  he  meant  it.  He  is  hard  pushed.  Well, 
I  gave  him  a  twentier,  and  he  was  off  the  next  night.  You'll 
soon  see  all  about  the  Company  in  the  papers." 

At  the  conclusion  of  Andrew's  recital.  Old  Tom  thrummed 
and  looked  on  the  floor  under  a  heavy  frown.  His  mouth 
worked  dubiously,  and,  from  moment  to  moment,  he  plucked 
at  his  waistcoat  and  pulled  it  down,  throwing  back  his  head 
and  glaring. 

"  I've  knocked  that  fellow  over  once,"  he  said.  "  Wish  he 
hadn't  got  up  again." 

Andrew  nodded. 

"  One  good  thing.  Nan.  He  never  boasted  of  our  connec- 
tion.    Much  obliged  to  him." 

"  Yes,"  said  Andrew,  who  was  gladly  watching  Old  Tom's 
change  of  mood  with  a  quiescent  aspect. 


PLOT   OF  THE  BROTHERS   COGGLESBY  427 

"Um !  —  must  keep  it  quiet  from  his  poor  old  mother." 

Andrew  again  affirmatived  his  senior's  remarks.  That  his 
treatment  of  Old  Tom  was  sound,  he  presently  had  proof  of. 
The  latter  stood  up,  and  after  sniffing  in  an  injured  way  for 
about  a  minute,  launched  out  his  right  leg,  and  vociferated 
that  he  would  like  to  have  it  in  his  power  to  kick  all  the 
villains  out  of  the  world :  a  modest  demand  Andrew  at  once 
chimed  in  with ;  adding  that,  were  such  a  faculty  extended 
to  him,  he  would  not  object  to  lose  the  leg  that  could  bene- 
fit mankind  so  infinitely,  and  consented  to  its  following  them. 
Then,  Old  Tom,  who  was  of  a  practical  turn,  meditated, 
swung  his  foot,  and  gave  one  grim  kick  at  the  imaginary 
bundle  of  villains,  discharged  them  headlong  straight  into 
space.  Andrew,  naturally  imitative,  and  seeing  that  he  had 
now  to  kick  them  flying,  attempted  to  excel  Old  Tom  in  the 
vigour  of  his  delivery.  No  wonder  that  the  efforts  of  both 
were  heating :  they  were  engaged  in  the  task  of  ridding  the 
globe  of  the  larger  half  of  its  inhabitants.  Tom  perceived 
Andrew's  useless  emulation,  and  with  a  sound  translated  by 
"  yack,"  sent  his  leg  out  a  long  way.  Not  to  be  outdone, 
Andrew  immediately,  with  a  still  louder  "  yack,"  committed 
himself  to  an  effort  so  violent  that  the  alternative  between 
his  leg  coming  off,  or  his  being  taken  off  his  leg,  was  pro- 
pounded by  nature,  and  decided  by  the  laws  of  gravity  in  a 
trice.  Joyful  grunts  were  emitted  by  Old  Tom  at  the  sight 
of  Andrew  prostrate,  rubbing  his  pate.  But  Mrs.  Sockley, 
to  whom  the  noise  of  Andrew's  fall  had  suggested  awful 
fears  of  a  fratricidal  conflict  up-stairs,  hurried  forthwith  to 
announce  to  them  that  the  sovereign  remedy  for  human  ills, 
the  promoter  of  concord,  the  healer  of  feuds,  the  central 
point  of  man's  destiny  in  the  flesh  —  Dinner,  was  awaiting 
them. 

To  the  dinner  they  marched. 

Of  this  great  festival  be  it  simply  told  that  the  supply  was 
copious  and  of  good  quality  —  much  too  good  and  copious 
for  a  bankrupt  host :  that  Evan  and  Mr.  John  Raikes  were 
formally  introduced  to  Old  Tom  before  the  repast  com- 
menced, and  welcomed  some  three  minutes  after  he  had  de- 
cided the  flavour  of  his  first  glass ;  that  Mr.  Eaikes  in  due 
time  preferred  his  petition  for  release  from  a  dreadful  en- 
gagement, and  furnished  vast  amusement  to  the  company 


428  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

under  Old  Tom's  hand,  until,  by  chance,  he  quoted  a  scrap 
of  Latin,  at  which  the  brothers  Cogglesby,  who  would  have 
faced  peers  and  princes  without  being  disconcerted  or  per- 
forming mental  genuflexions,  shut  their  mouths  and  looked 
injured,  unhappy,  and  in  the  presence  of  a  superior :  Mr. 
Raikes  not  being  the  man  to  spare  them.  Moreover,  a  sur- 
prise was  afforded  to  Evan.  Andrew  stated  to  Old  Tom  that 
the  hospitality  of  Main  Street,  Lymport,  was  open  to  him. 
Strange  to  say.  Old  Tom  accepted  it  on  the  spot,  observing, 
"  You're  master  of  the  house  —  can  do  what  you  like,  if 
you're  man  enough,"  and  adding  that  he  thanked  him,  and 
would  come  in  a  day  or  two.  The  case  of  Mr.  Raikes  was 
still  left  uncertain,  for  as  the  bottle  circulated,  he  exhibited 
such  a  faculty  for  apt,  but  to  the  brothers  totally  incompre- 
hensible quotation,  that  they  fled  from  him  without  leaving 
him  time  to  remember  what  special  calamity  was  on  his 
mind,  or  whether  this  earth  was  other  than  an  abode  con- 
ceived in  great  jollity  for  his  life-long  entertainment. 


CHAPTER  XLII 

JULIANA 


The  sick  night-light  burned  steadily  in  Juliana's  chamber. 
On  a  couch,  beside  her  bed,  Caroline  lay  sleeping,  tired  with 
a  long  watch.  Two  sentences  had  been  passed  on  Juliana : 
one  on  her  heart :  one  on  her  body :  "  Thou  art  not  loved  " ; 
and,  "Thou  must  die."  The  frail  passion  of  her  struggle 
against  her  destiny  was  over  with  her.  Quiet  as  that  quiet 
which  Nature  was  taking  her  to,  her  body  reposed.  Calm 
as  the  solitary  night-light  before  her  open  eyes,  her  spirit 
was  wasting  away.  "  If  I  am  not  loved,  then  let  me  die ! " 
In  such  a  sense  she  bowed  to  her  fate. 

At  an  hour  like  this,  watching  the  round  of  light  on  the 
ceiling,  with  its  narrowing  inner  rings,  a  sufferer  from  whom 
pain  has  fled  looks  back  to  the  shores  she  is  leaving,  and 
would  be  well  with  them  who  walk  there.  It  is  false  to 
imagine  that  schemers  and  workers  in  the  dark  are  desti- 


JULIANA  429 

tute  of  the  saving  gift  of  conscience.  They  have  it,  and  it 
is  perhaps  made  livelier  in  them  than  with  easy  people ;  and 
therefore,  they  are  imperatively  spurred  to  hoodwink  it. 
Hence,  their  self-delusion  is  deep  and  endures.  They  march 
to  their  object,  and  gaining  or  losing  it,  the  voice  that  calls 
to  them  is  the  voice  of  a  blind  creature,  whom  any  answer, 
provided  that  the  answer  is  ready,  will  silence.  And  at  an 
hour  like  this,  when  finally  they  snatch  their  minute  of  sight 
on  the  threshold  of  black  night,  their  souls  may  compare 
with  yonder  shining  circle  on  the  ceiling,  which,  as  the  light 
below  gasps  for  air,  contracts,  and  extends  but  to  mingle 
with  the  darkness.  They  would  be  nobler,  better,  bound- 
lessly good  to  all;  —  to  those  who  have  injured  them  ;  —  to 
those  whom  they  have  injured.  Alas  !  for  any  definite  deed 
the  limit  of  their  circle  is  immovable,  and  they  must  act 
within  it.  The  trick  they  have  played  themselves  impris- 
ons them.     Beyond  it,  they  cease  to  be. 

Lying  in  this  utter  stillness,  Juliana  thought  of  Rose ;  of 
her  beloved  by  Evan.  The  fever  that  had  left  her  blood,  had 
left  it  stagnant,  and  her  thoughts  were  quite  emotionless. 
She  looked  faintly  on  a  far  picture.  She  saw  Rose  bloom- 
ing with  pleasures  in  Elburne  House,  sliding  as  a  boat  borne 
by  the  river's  tide  to  sea,  away  from  her  living  joy.  The 
breast  of  Rose  was  lucid  to  her,  and  in  that  hour  of  insight 
she  had  clear  knowledge  of  her  cousin's  heart ;  how  it 
scoffed  at  its  base  love,  and  unwittingly  betrayed  the  power 
on  her  still,  by  clinging  to  the  world  and  what  it  would  give 
her  to  fill  the  void ;  how  externally  the  lake  was  untroubled, 
and  a  mirror  to  the  passing  day ;  and  how  within  there 
pressed  a  flood  against  an  iron  dam.  Evan,  too,  she  saw. 
The  Countess  was  right  in  her  judgement  of  Juliana's  love. 
Juliana  looked  very  little  to  his  qualities.  She  loved  him 
when  she  thought  him  guilty,  which  made  her  conceive  that 
her  love  was  of  a  diviner  cast  than  Rose  was  capable  of. 
Guilt  did  not  spoil  his  beauty  to  her;  his  gentleness  and 
glowing  manhood  were  unchanged ;  and  when  she  knew  him 
as  he  was,  the  revelation  of  his  high  nature  simply  confirmed 
her  impression  of  his  physical  perfections.  She  had  done 
him  a  wrong ;  at  her  death  news  would  come  to  him,  and  it 
might  be  that  he  would  bless  her  name.  Because  she  sighed 
no  longer  for  those  dear  lips  and  strong  arms  to  close  about 


430  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

her  tremulous  frame,  it  seemed  to  her  that  she  had  quite 
surrendered  him.  Generous  to  Evan,  she  would  be  just  to 
Rose.  Beneath  her  pillow  she  found  pencil  and  paper,  and 
with  difBiCulty,  scarce  seeing  her  letters  in  the  brown  light, 
she  began  to  trace  lines  of  farewell  to  Rose.  Her  conscience 
dictated  to  her  thus,  "  Tell  Rose  that  she  was  too  ready  to 
accept  his  guilt ;  and  that  in  this  as  in  all  things,  she  acted 
with  the  precipitation  of  her  character.  Tell  her  that  you 
always  trusted,  and  that  now  you  know  him  innocent.  Give 
her  the  proofs  you  have.  Show  that  he  did  it  to  shield  his 
intriguing  sister.  Tell  her  that  you  write  this  only  to  make 
her  just  to  him.   End  with  a  prayer  that  Rose  may  be  happy." 

Ere  Juliana  had  finished  one  sentence,  she  resigned  the 
pencil.  Was  it  not  much,  even  at  the  gates  of  death,  to  be 
the  instrument  to  send  Rose  into  his  arms  ?  The  picture 
swayed  before  her,  helping  her  weakness.  She  found  her- 
self dreaming  that  he  had  kissed  her  once.  Dorothy,  she 
remembered,  had  danced  up  to  her  one  day,  to  relate  what 
the  maids  of  the  house  said  of  the  gentlemen  —  (at  whom,  it 
is  known,  they  look  with  the  license  of  cats  toward  kings) ; 
and  Dorothy's  fresh  careless  mouth  had  told  how  one  obser- 
vant maid,  amorously  minded,  proclaimed  of  Evan,  to  a 
companion  of  her  sex,  that,  "he  was  the  only  gentleman 
who  gave  you  an  idea  of  how  he  would  look  when  he 
was  kissing  you."  Juliana  cherished  that  vision  likewise. 
Young  ladies  are  not  supposed  to  do  so,  if  menial  maids 
are ;  but  Juliana  did  cherish  it,  and  it  possessed  her  fancy. 
Bear  in  your  recollection  that  she  was  not  a  healthy  person. 
Diseased  little  heroines  may  be  made  attractive,  and  are 
now  popular ;  but  strip  off  the  cleverly  woven  robe  which  is 
fashioned  to  cover  them,  and  you  will  find  them  in  certain 
matters  bearing  a  resemblance  to  menial  maids. 

While  the  thoughts  of  his  kiss  lasted,  she  could  do 
nothing ;  but  lay  with  her  two  hands  out  on  the  bed,  and 
her  eyelids  closed.  Then  waking,  she  took  the  pencil  again. 
It  would  not  move :  her  bloodless  fingers  fell  from  it. 

"  If  they  do  not  meet,  and  he  never  marries,  I  may  claim 
him  in  the  next  world,"  she  mused. 

But  conscience  continued  uneasy.  She  turned  her  wrist 
and  trailed  a  letter  from  beneath  the  pillow.  It  was  from 
Mrs.  Shorne.     Juliana  knew  the  contents.     She  raised  it 


ROSE  431 

unopened  as  high  as  her  faltering  hands  permitted,  and 
read  like  one  whose  shut  eyes  read  syllables  of  fire  on  the 
darkness. 

"  Rose  has  at  last  definitively  engaged  herself  to  Ferdinand, 
you  will  be  glad  to  hear,  and  we  may  now  treat  her  as  a 
woman." 

Having  absorbed  these  words,  Juliana's  hand  found 
strength  to  write,  with  little  difficulty,  what  she  had  to  say 
to  Rose.  She  conceived  it  to  be  neither  sublime  nor  gener- 
ous: not  even  good;  merely  her  peculiar  duty.  When  it 
was  done,  she  gave  a  long,  low  sigh  of  relief. 

Caroline  whispered,  "  Dearest  child,  are  you  awake  ?  " 

"Yes,"  she  answered. 

"Sorrowful,  dear?" 

"Very  quiet." 

Caroline  reached  her  hand  over  to  her,  and  felt  the  paper. 

"What  is  this?" 

"  My  good-bye  to  Rose,  I  want  it  folded  now." 

Caroline  slipped  from  the  couch  to  fulfil  her  wish.  She 
enclosed  the  pencilled  scrap  of  paper,  sealed  it,  and  asked, 
"Is  that  right?" 

"  Now  unlock  my  desk,"  Juliana  uttered  feebly.  "  Put  it 
beside  a  letter  addressed  to  a  law-gentleman.  Post  both  the 
morning  I  am  gone." 

Caroline  promised  to  obey,  and  coming  to  Juliana  to  mark 
her  looks,  observed  a  faint  pleased  smile  dying  away,  and 
had  her  hand  gently  squeezed.  Juliana's  conscience  had 
preceded  her  contentedly  to  its  last  sleep ;  and  she,  beneath 
that  round  of  light  on  the  ceiling,  drew  on  her  counted 
breaths  in  peace  till  dawn. 


CHAPTER  XLin 

ROSE 


Have  you  seen  a  young  audacious  spirit  smitten  to  the 
earth  ?  It  is  a  singular  study ;  and,  in  the  case  of  young 
women,  a  trap  for  inexperienced  men.     Rose,  who  had  com- 


432  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

manded  and  managed  every  one  surrounding  her  since 
infancy,  how  humble  had  she  now  become !  —  how  much 
more  womanly  in  appearance,  and  more  child-like  at  heart ! 
She  was  as  wax  in  Lady  Elburne's  hands.  A  hint  of  that 
veiled  episode,  the  Beckley  campaign,  made  Rose  pliant,  as 
if  she  had  woven  for  herself  a  rod  of  scorpions.  The  high 
ground  she  had  taken ;  the  perfect  trust  in  one ;  the  scorn 
of  any  judgement,  save  her  own ;  these  had  vanished  from 
her.  Rose,  the  tameless  heroine  who  had  once  put  her 
mother's  philosophy  in  action,  was  the  easiest  fi\: ,'  that  tur- 
baned  matron  ever  yet  drove  into  the  straight  road  of  the 
world.  It  even  surprised  Lady  Jocelyn  to  see  how  wonder- 
fully she  had  been  broken  in  by  her  grandmother.  Her 
ladyship  wrote  to  Drummond  to  tell  him  of  it,  and  Drum- 
mond  congratulated  her,  saying,  however:  —  "Changes  of 
this  sort  don't  come  of  conviction.  Wait  till  you  see  her  at 
home.  I  think  they  have  been  sticking  pins  into  the  sore 
part." 

Drummond  knew  Rose  well.  ,  In  reality  there  was  no 
change  in  her.  She  was  only  a  suppliant  to  be  spared  from 
ridicule :  spared  from  the  application  of  the  scourge  she  had 
woven  for  herself. 

And,  ah!  to  one  who  deigned  to  think  warmly  still  of 
such  a  disgraced  silly  creature,  with  what  gratitude  she 
turned !  He  might  well  suppose  love  alone  could  pour  that 
profusion  of  jewels  at  his  feet. 

Ferdinand,  now  Lord  Laxley,  understood  the  merits  of  his 
finger-nails  better  than  the  nature  of  young  women ;  but  he 
is  not  to  be  blamed  for  presuming  that  Rose  had  learnt  to 
adore  him.  Else  why  did  she  like  his  company  so  much  ? 
He  was  not  mistaken  in  thinking  she  looked  up  to  him. 
She  seemed  to  beg  to  be  taken  into  his  noble  serenity.  In 
truth  she  sighed  to  feel  as  he  did,  above  everybody  !  —  she 
that  had  fallen  so  low !  Above  everybody  !  —  born  above 
them,  and  therefore  superior  by  grace  divine  !  To  this  Rose 
Jocelyn  had  come  —  she  envied  the  mind  of  Ferdinand. 

He,  you  may  be  sure,  was  quite  prepared  to  accept  her 
homage.  Rose  he  had  always  known  to  be  just  the  girl  for 
him ;  spirited,  fresh,  and  with  fine  teeth ;  and  once  tied  to 
you  safe  to  be  staunch.  They  walked  together,  rode  to- 
gether, danced  together.     Her  soft  humility  touched  him 


EOSE  433 

to  eloquence.  Say  she  was  a  little  hypocrite,  if  you  like, 
when  the  blood  came  to  her  cheeks  under  his  eyes.  Say 
she  was  a  heartless  minx  for  allowing  it  to  be  bruited  that 
she  and  Ferdinand  were  betrothed.  I  can  but  tell  you  that 
her  blushes  were  blushes  of  gratitude  to  one  who  could 
devote  his  time  to  such  a  disgraced  silly  creature,  and  that 
she,  in  her  abject  state,  felt  a  secret  pleasure  in  the  protec- 
tion Ferdinand's  name  appeared  to  extend  over  her,  and  was 
hardly  willing  to  lose  it. 

So  far  I  "y  Elburne's  tact  and  discipline  had  been  highly 
successful.  One  morning,  in  May,  Ferdinand,  strolling  with 
Rose  down  the  garden  made  a  positive  appeal  to  her  com- 
mon sense  and  friendly  feeling ;  by  which  she  understood 
that  he  wanted  her  consent  to  his  marriage  with  her. 

Rose  answered : 

"  Who  would  have  me  ?  " 

Ferdinand  spoke  pretty  well,  and  ultimately  got  possession 
of  her  hand.  She  let  him  keep  it,  thinking  him  noble  for 
forgetting  that  another  had  pressed  it  before  him. 

Some  minutes  later  the  letters  were  delivered.  One  of 
them  contained  Juliana's  dark-winged  missive. 

"  Poor,  poor  Juley ! "  said  Rose,  dropping  her  head,  after 
reading  all  that  was  on  the  crumpled  leaf  with  an  inflexible 
face.  And  then,  talking  on,  long  low  sighs  lifted  her  bosom 
at  intervals.  She  gazed  from  time  to  time  with  a  wistful 
conciliatory  air  on  Ferdinand.  Rushing  to  her  chamber,  the 
first  cry  her  soul  framed  was :  "  He  did  not  kiss  me ! " 

The  young  have  a  superstitious  sense  of  something  incon- 
testably  true  in  the  final  protestations  of  the  dead.  Evan 
guiltless !  she  could  not  quite  take  the  meaning  this  revela- 
tion involved.  That  which  had  been  dead  was  beginning  to 
move  within  her;  but  blindly:  and  now  it  stirred  and 
troubled;  now  sank.  Guiltless?  —  all  she  had  thought 
him !  Oh  !  she  knew  she  could  not  have  been  deceived. 
But  why,  why  had  he  hidden  his  sacrifice  from  her  ? 

"  It  is  better  for  us  both,  of  course,"  said  Rose,  speaking 
the  world's  wisdom,  parrot-like,  and  bursting  into  tears  the 
next  minute.  Guiltless,  and  gloriously  guiltless !  but  noth- 
ing —  nothing  to  her ! 

She  tried  to  blame  him.  It  would  not  do.  She  tried 
to   think  of    that  grovelling  loathsome    position  painted 


434  EVAN  HAREINGTON 

to  her  by  Lady  Elburne's  graphic  hand.  Evan  dis- 
persed the  gloomy  shades  like  sunshine.  Then  in  a  sort 
of  terror  she  rejoiced  to  think  she  was  partially  engaged  to 
Ferdinand,  and  found  herself  crying  again  with  exultation, 
that  he  had  not  kissed  her :  for  a  kiss  on  her  mouth  was  to 
Rose  a  pledge  and  a  bond. 

The  struggle  searched  her  through :  bared  her  weakness, 
probed  her  strength ;  and  she,  seeing  herself,  suffered 
grievously  in  her  self-love.  Am  I  such  a  coward,  incon- 
stant, cold  ?  she  asked.  Confirmatory  answers  coming, 
flung  her  back  under  the  shield  of  Ferdinand :  if  for  a 
moment  her  soul  stood  up  armed  and  defiant,  it  was  Evan's 
hand  she  took. 

To  whom  do  I  belong  ?  was  another  terrible  question.  In 
her  ideas,  if  Evan  was  not  chargeable  with  that  baseness 
which  had  sundered  them  he  might  claim  her  yet,  if  he 
would.     If  he  did,  what  then  ?     Must  she  go  to  him  ? 

Impossible :  she  was  in  chains.  Besides,  what  a  din  of 
laughter  there  would  be  to  see  her  led  away  by  him.  Twist- 
ing her  joined  hands:  weeping  for  her  cousin,  as  she 
thought,  Rose  passed  hours  of  torment  over  Juliana's  legacy 
to  her. 

"  Why  did  I  doubt  him  ?"  she  cried,  jealous  that  any  soul 
should  have  known  and  trusted  him  better.  Jealous :  and 
I  am*  afraid  that  the  kindling  of  that  one  feature  of  love 
relighted  the  fire  of  her  passion  thus  fervidly.  To  be  out- 
stripped in  generosity  was  hateful  to  her.  Rose,  naturally, 
could  not  reflect  that  a  young  creature  like  herself,  fighting 
against  the  world,  as  we  call  it,  has  all  her  faculties  at  the 
utmost  stretch,  and  is  often  betrayed  by  failing  nature  when 
the  will  is  still  valiant. 

And  here  she  sat  —  in  chains!  "Yes  !  I  am  fit  only  to 
be  the  wife  of  an  idle  brainless  man,  with  money  and  a 
title,"  she  said,  in  extreme  self-contempt.  She  caught  a 
glimpse  of  her  whole  life  in  the  horrid  tomb  of  his  embrace, 
and  questions  whether  she  could  yield  her  hand  to  him  — 
whether  it  was  right  in  the  eyes  of  heaven,  rushed  impetu- 
ously to  console  her,  and  defied  anything  in  the  shape  of 
satisfactory  affirmations.  Nevertheless,  the  end  of  the 
struggle  was,  that  she  felt  that  she  was  bound  to  Fer- 
dinand. 


ROSE  435 

"  But  this  I  will  do,"  said  Rose,  standing  with  heat-bright 
eyes  and  deep-coloured  cheeks  before  the  glass.  "I  will 
clear  his  character  at  Beckley.  I  will  help  him.  I  will  be 
his  friend.  I  will  wipe  out  the  injustice  I  did  him."  And 
this  bride-elect  of  a  lord  absolutely  added  —  that  she  was 
unworthy  to  be  the  wife  of  a  tailor ! 

"  He !  how  unequalled  he  is !  There  is  nothing  he  fears 
except  shame.  Oh !  how  sad  it  will  be  for  him  to  find 
no  woman  in  his  class  to  understand  him  and  be  his  help- 
mate ! " 

Over  this  sad  subject,  of  which  we  must  presume  her  to 
be  accurately  cognizant,  Rose  brooded  heavily.  By  mid-day 
she  gave  her  Grandmother  notice  that  she  was  going  home 
to  Juliana's  funeral, 

"  Well,  Rose,  if  you  think  it  necessary  to  join  the  cere- 
mony," said  Lady  Elburne.  "  Beckley  is  bad  quarters  for 
you,  as  you  have  learnt.  There  was  never  much  love 
between  you  cousins." 

"  No,  and  I  don't  pretend  to  it,"  Rose  answered.  "  I  am 
sorry  poor  Juley's  gone." 

"She's  better  gone  for  many  reasons  —  she  appears  to 
have  been  a  little  venomous  toad,"  said  Lady  Elburne ;  and 
Rose,  thinking  of  a  snakelike  death-bite  working  through 
her  blood,  rejoined :  "  Yes,  she  isn't  to  be  pitied :  she's 
better  off  than  most  people." 

So  it  was  arranged  that  Rose  should  go.  Ferdinand  and 
her  aunt,  Mrs.  Shorne,  accompanied  her.  Mrs.  Shorne  gave 
them  their  opportunities,  albeit  they  were  all  stowed  together 
in  a  carriage,  and  Ferdinand  seemed  willing  to  profit  by 
them ;  but  Rose's  hand  was  dead,  and  she  sat  by  her  future 
lord  forming  the  vow  on  her  lips  that  they  should  never 
be  touched  by  him. 

Arrived  at  Beckley,  she,  to  her  great  delight,  found  Caro- 
line there,  waiting  for  the  funeral.  In  a  few  minutes  she 
got  her  alone,  and  after  kisses,  looked  penetratingly  into 
her  lovely  eyes,  shook  her  head,  and  said :  "  Why  were  you 
false  to  me  ?  " 

"  False  ?  "  echoed  Caroline. 

"You  knew  him.  You  knew  why  he  did  that.  Why 
did  you  not  save  me  ?  " 

Caroline  fell  upon  her  neck,  asking  pardon.     She  spared 


436  EVAN  HABEINGTON 

her  the  recital  of  facts  further  than  the  broad  avowal.  Evan's 
present  condition  she  plainly  stated :  and  Rose,  when  the 
bitter  pangs  had  ceased,  made  oath  to  her  soul  she  would 
rescue  him  from  it. 

In  addition  to  the  task  of  clearing  Evan's  character,  and 
rescuing  him.  Rose  now  conceived  that  her  engagement  to 
Ferdinand  must  stand  ice-bound  till  Evan  had  given  her  back 
her  troth.  How  could  she  obtain  it  from  him  ?  How  could 
she  take  anything  from  one  so  noble  and  so  poor  !  Happily 
there  was  no  hurry ;  though  before  any  bond  was  ratified,  she 
decided  conscientiously  that  it  must  be  done. 

You  see  that  like  a  lithe  snake  she  turns  on  herself,  and 
must  be  tracked  in  and  out.  Not  being  a  girl  to  solve  the 
problem  with  tears,  or  outright  perfidy,  she  had  to  ease  her 
heart  to  the  great  shock  little  by  little :  sincere  as  far  as  she 
knew :  as  far  as  one  who  loves  may  be. 

The  day  of  the  funeral  came  and  went.  The  Jocelyns  were 
of  their  mother's  opinion :  that  for  many  reasons  Juliana  was 
better  out  of  the  way.  Mrs.  Bonner's  bequest  had  been  a 
severe  blow  to  Sir  Franks.  However,  all  was  now  well. 
The  estate  naturally  lapsed  to  Lady  Jocelyn.  No  one  in  the 
house  dreamed  of  a  will,  signed  with  Juliana's  name,  attested, 
under  due  legal  forms,  being  in  existence.  None  of  the  mem- 
bers of  the  family  imagined  that  at  Beckley  Court  they  were 
then  residing  on  somebody's  else's  ground. 

Want  of  hospitable  sentiments  was  not  the  cause  that  led 
to  an  intimation  from  Sir  Franks  to  his  wife,  that  Mrs.  Strike 
must  not  be  pressed  to  remain,  and  that  Rose  must  not  be 
permitted  to  have  her  own  way  in  this.  Knowing  very  well 
that  Mrs.  Shorne  spoke  through  her  husband's  mouth.  Lady 
Jocelyn  still  acquiesced,  and  Rose,  who  had  pressed  Caroline 
publicly  to  stay,  had  to  be  silent  when  the  latter  renewed  her 
faint  objections ;  so  Caroline  said  she  would  leave  on  the 
morrow  morning. 

Juliana,  with  her  fretfulness,  her  hand  bounties,  her  petty 
egoisms,  and  sudden  far-leaping  generosities,  and  all  the  con- 
tradictory impulses  of  her  malady,  had  now  departed  utterly. 
The  joys  of  a  landed  proprietor  mounted  into  the  head  of 
Sir  Franks.  He  was  up  early  the  next  morning,  and  he  and 
Harry  walked  over  a  good  bit  of  the  ground  before  breakfast. 
Sir  Franks  meditated  making  it  entail,  and  favoured  Harry 


EOSB  437 

with  a  lecture  on  the  duty  of  his  shaping  the  course  of  his 
conduct  at  once  after  the  model  of  the  landed  gentry 
generally. 

"And  you  may  think  yourself  lucky  to  come  into  that 
catalogue  —  the  son  of  a  younger  son ! "  said  Sir  Franks, 
tapping  Mr.  Harry's  shoulder.  Harry  also  began  to  enjoy 
the  look  and  smell  of  land.  At  the  breakfast,  which,  though 
early,  was  well  attended,  Harry  spoke  of  the  adviseability 
of  felling  timber  here,  planting  there,  and  so  forth,  after  the 
model  his  father  held  up.  Sir  Franks  nodded  approval  of  his 
interest  in  the  estate,  but  reserved  his  opinion  on  matters  of 
detail. 

"All  I  beg  of  you  is,"  said  Lady  Jocelyn,  "that  you 
won't  let  us  have  turnips  within  the  circuit  of  a  mile;" 
which  was  obligingly  promised. 

The  morning  letters  were  delivered  and  opened  with  the 
customary  calmness. 

"Letter  from  old  George,"  Harry  sings  out,  and  buzzes 
over  a  few  lines.  "  Halloa !  —  Hum  !  "  He  was  going  to 
make  a  communication,  but  catching  sight  of  Caroline,  tossed 
the  letter  over  to  Ferdinand,  who  read  it  and  tossed  it  back 
with  the  comment  of  a  careless  face. 

"  Eead  it,  Rosey  ?  "  says  Harry,  smiling  blimtly. 

Rather  to  his  surprise,  Rose  took  the  letter.  Study  her 
eyes  if  you  wish  to  gauge  the  potency  of  one  strong  dose  of 
ridicule  on  an  ingenuous  young  heart.  She  read  that  Mr. 
George  Uploft  had  met  "  our  friend  Mr,  Snip "  riding,  by 
moonlight,  on  the  road  to  Beckley.  That  great  orbed  night 
of  their  deep  tender  love  flashed  luminously  through  her 
frame,  storming  at  the  base  epithet  by  which  her  lover  was 
mentioned,  flooding  grandly  over  the  ignominies  cast  on  him 
by  the  world.  She  met  the  world,  as  it  were,  in  a  death- 
grapple  ;  she  matched  the  living  heroic  youth  she  felt  him  to 
be,  with  that  dead  wooden  image  of  him  which  it  thrust 
before  her.  Her  heart  stood  up  singing  like  a  craven  who 
sees  the  tide  of  victory  setting  toward  him.  But  this  passed 
beneath  her  eyelids.  When  her  eyes  were  lifted,  Ferdinand 
could  have  discovered  nothing  in  them  to  complain  of,  had 
his  suspicions  been  light  to  raise:  nor  could  Mrs.  Shorne 
perceive  that  there  was  the  opening  for  a  shrewd  bodkin- 
thrust.     Rose  had  got  a  mask  at  last :  her  colour,  voice,  ex- 


438  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

pression,  were  perfectly  at  command.  She  knew  it  to  be  a 
cowardice  to  wear  any  mask :  but  she  had  been  burnt,  hor- 
ribly burnt:  how  much  so  you  may  guess  from  the  supple 
dissimulation  of  such  a  bold  clear-visaged  girl.  She  con- 
quered the  sneers  of  the  world  in  her  soul :  but  her  sensitive 
skin  was  yet  alive  to  the  pangs  of  the  scorching  it  had  been 
subjected  to  when  weak,  helpless,  and  betrayed  by  Evan, 
she  stood  with  no  philosophic  parent  to  cry  fair  play  for 
her,  among  the  skilful  tortures  of  Elburne  House. 

Sir  Franks  had  risen  and  walked  to  the  window. 

"  News  ?  "  said  Lady  Jocelyn,  wheeling  round  in  her  chair. 

The  one  eyebrow  up  of  the  easy-going  baronet  signified 
trouble  of  mind.  He  finished  his  third  perusal  of  a  letter 
that  appeared  to  be  written  in  a  remarkably  plain  legal  hand, 
and  looking  as  men  do  when  their  intelligences  are  just  equal 
to  the  comprehension  or  expression  of  an  oath,  handed  the 
letter  to  his  wife,  and  observed  that  he  should  be  found  in 
the  library.  Nevertheless  he  waited  first  to  mark  its  effect 
on  Lady  Jocelyn.  At  one  part  of  the  document  her  forehead 
wrinkled  slightly. 

"  Doesn't  sound  like  a  joke ! "  he  said. 

She  answered : 

"No." 

Sir  Franks,  apparently  quite  satisfied  by  her  ready  re- 
sponse, turned  on  his  heel  and  left  the  room  quickly. 

An  hour  afterward  it  was  rumoured  and  confirmed  that 
Juliana  Bonner  had  willed  all  the  worldly  property  she  held 
in  her  own  right,  comprising  Beckley  Court,  to  Mr.  Evan 
Harrington,  of  Lymport,  tailor.  An  abstract  of  the  will  was 
forwarded.  The  lawyer  went  on  to  say,  that  he  had  con- 
formed to  the  desire  of  the  testatrix  in  communicating  the 
existence  of  the  aforesaid  will  six  days  subsequent  to  her 
death,  being  the  day  after  her  funeral. 

There  had  been  railing  and  jeering  at  the  Countess  de 
Saldar,  the  clever  outwitted  exposed  adventuress,  at  Elburne 
House  and  Beckley  Court.  What  did  the  crowing  cleverer 
aristocrats  think  of  her  now  ? 

On  Rose  the  blow  fell  bitterly.  Was  Evan  also  a  foul 
schemer?  Was  he  of  a  piece  with  his  intriguing  sister? 
His  close  kinship  with  the  Countess  had  led  her  to  think 
baseness  possible  to  him  when  it  was  confessed  by  his  own 


CONTAINS   A   WARNING   TO   ALL   CONSPIRATORS      439 

mouth  once.  She  heard  black  names  cast  at  him  and  the 
whole  of  the  great  Mel's  brood,  and  incapable  of  quite  dis- 
believing them  merited,  unable  to  challenge  and  rebut  them, 
she  dropped  into  her  recent  state  of  self-contempt :  into  her 
lately-instilled  doubt  whether  it  really  was  in  Nature's 
power,  unaided  by  family-portraits,  coats-of-arms,  ball-room 
practice,  and  at  least  one  small  phial  of  Essence  of  Society, 
to  make  a  Gentleman. 


CHAPTER  XLIV 

CONTAINS   A  WARNING  TO   ALL   CONSPIRATORS 

This,  if  you  have  done  me  the  favour  to  read  it  aright,  has 
been  a  chronicle  of  desperate  heroism  on  the  part  of  almost 
all  the  principal  personages  represented.  But  not  the  Coun- 
tess de  Saldar,  scaling  the  embattled  fortress  of  Society ;  nor 
Rose,  tossing  its  keys  to  her  lover  from  the  shining  turret- 
tops  ;  nor  Evan,  keeping  bright  the  lamp  of  self-respect  in 
his  bosom  against  South  wind  and  East ;  none  excel  friend 
Andrew  Cogglesby,  who,  having  fallen  into  Old  Tom's  plot 
to  humiliate  his  wife  and  her  sisters,  simply  for  Evan's 
sake,  and  without  any  distinct  notion  of  the  terror,  confu- 
sion, and  universal  upset  he  was  bringing  on  his  home, 
could  yet,  after  a  scared  contemplation  of  the  scene  when 
he  returned  from  his  expedition  to  Fallowfield,  continue  to 
wear  his  rueful  mask ;  and  persevere  in  treacherously  out- 
raging his  lofty  wife. 

He  did  it  to  vindicate  the  ties  of  blood  against  accidents 
of  position.  Was  he  justified?  I  am  sufficiently  wise  to 
ask  my  own  sex  alone. 

On  the  other  side,  be  it  said  (since  in  our  modern  days 
every  hero  must  have  his  weak  heel),  that  now  he  had  gone 
this  distance  it  was  difficult  to  recede.  It  would  be  no  laugh- 
ing matter  to  tell  his  solemn  Harriet  that  he  had  been  play- 
ing her  a  little  practical  joke.  His  temptations  to  give  it  up 
were  incessant  and  most  agitating ;  but  if  to  advance  seemed 
terrific,  there  was,  in  stopping  short,  an  awfulness  so  over- 


440  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

whelming  that  Andrew  abandoned  himself  to  the  current,  his 
real  dismay  adding  to  his  acting  powers. 

The  worst  was,  that  the  joke  was  no  longer  his:  it  was 
Old  Tom's.  He  discovered  that  he  was  in  Old  Tom's  hands 
completely.  Andrew  had  thought  that  he  would  j  ust  frighten 
the  women  a  bit,  get  them  down  to  Lymport  for  a  week  or 
so,  and  then  announce  that  matters  were  not  so  bad  with 
the  Brewery  as  he  had  feared ;  concluding  the  farce  with  a 
few  domestic  fireworks.  Conceive  his  dismay  when  he  en- 
tered the  house,  to  find  there  a  man  in  possession. 

Andrew  flew  into  such  a  rage  that  he  committed  an  assault 
on  the  man.  So  ungovernable  was  his  passion,  that  for  some 
minutes  Harriet's  measured  voice  summoned  him  from  over 
the  banisters  above,  quite  in  vain.  The  miserable  English- 
man refused  to  be  taught  that  his  house  had  ceased  to  be  his 
castle.  It  was  something  beyond  a  joke,  this !  The  intruder, 
perfectly  docile,  seeing  that  by  accurate  calculation  every 
shake  he  got  involved  a  bottle  of  wine  for  him,  and  ultimate 
compensation  probably  to  the  amount  of  a  couple  of  sover- 
eigns, allowed  himself  to  be  lugged  up-stairs,  in  default  of 
summary  ejection  on  the  point  of  Andrew's  toe  into  the  street. 
There  he  was  faced  to  the  lady  of  the  house,  who  apologized 
to  him,  and  requested  her  husband  to  state  what  had  made 
him  guilty  of  this  indecent  behaviour.  The  man  showed^ 
his  papers.  They  were  quite  in  order.  "At  the  suit  of' 
Messrs.  Grist." 

"My  own  lawyers!"  cried  Andrew,  smacking  his  fore- 
head ;  and  Old  Tom's  devilry  flashed  on  him  at  once.  He 
sank  into  a  chair. 

"  Why  did  you  bring  this  person  up  here  ?  "  said  Harriet, 
like  a  speaking  statue. 

"  My  dear ! "  Andrew  answered,  and  spread  out  his  hand, 
and  waggled  his  head ;  "  My  —  please !  —  I  —  I  don't  know. 
We  all  want  exercise." 

The  man  laughed,  which  was  kindly  of  him,  but  offensive 
to  Mrs.  Cogglesby,  who  gave  Andrew  a  glance  which  was  full 
payment  for  his  imbecile  pleasantry,  and  promised  more. 

With  a  hospitable  inquiry  as  to  the  condition  of  his  appe- 
tite, and  a  request  that  he  would  be  pleased  to  satisfy  it  to 
the  full,  the  man  was  dismissed :  whereat,  as  one  delivered 
of  noxious  presences,  the  Countess  rustled  into  sight.    Not 


CONTAINS   A   WARNING   TO   ALL   CONSPIBATORS      441 

noticing  Andrew,  slie  lisped  to  Harriet :  "  Misfortunes  arp 
sometimes  no  curses !  I  bless  tlie  catarrh  that  has  confin^ 
Silva  to  his  chamber,  and  saved  him  from  a  bestial  exhir 
bition."  ^ 

The  two  ladies  then  swept  from  the  room,  and  left 
Andrew  to  perspire  at  leisure. 

Fresh  tribulations  awaited  him  when  he  sat  down  to 
dinner.  Andrew  liked  his  dinner  to  be  comfortable,  good, 
and  in  plenty.  This  may  not  seem  strange.  The  fact  is 
stated  that  I  may  win  for  him  the  warm  sympathies  of  the 
body  of  his  countrymen.  He  was  greeted  by  a  piece  of  cold 
boiled  neck  of  mutton  and  a  solitary  dish  of  steaming  pota- 
toes. The  blank  expanse  of  table-cloth  returned  his  desolate 
stare. 

"  Why,  what's  the  meaning  of  this  ?  "  Andrew  brutally 
exclaimed,  as  he  thumped  the  table. 

The  Countess  gave  a  start,  and  rolled  a  look  as  of  piteous 
supplication  to  spare  a  lady's  nerves,  addressed  to  a  ferocious 
brigand.  Harriet  ansT^ered :  "  It  means  that  I  will  have  no 
butcher's  bills." 

"  Butcher's  bills !  butcher's  bills  ! "  echoed  Andrew ; 
"why,  you  must  have  butcher's  bills;  why,  confound! 
why,  you'll  have  a  bill  for  this,  won't  you,  Harry  ?  eh  ?  of 
course ! " 

"There  will  be  no  more  bills  dating  from  yesterday," 
said  his  wife. 

"  What !  this  paid  for,  then  ?  " 

"  Yes,  Mr.  Cogglesby ;  and  so  will  all  household  expenses 
be,  while  my  pocket-money  lasts." 

Resting  his  eyes  full  on  Harriet  a  minute,  Andrew  dropped 
them  on  the  savourless  white-rimmed  chop,  which  looked  as 
lonely  in  his  plate  as  its  parent  dish  on  the  table.  The 
poor  dear  creature's  pocket-money  had  paid  for  it !  The 
thought,  mingling  with  a  rush  of  emotion,  made  his  ideas 
spin.  His  imagination  surged  deliriously.  He  fancied  him- 
self at  the  Zoological  Gardens,  exchanging  pathetic  glances 
with  a  melancholy  marmoset.  Wonderfully  like  one  the 
chop  looked !  There  was  no  use  in  his  trying  to  eat  it. 
He  seemed  to  be  fixing  his  teeth  in  solid  tears.  He  choked. 
Twice  he  took  up  knife  and  fork,  put  them  down  again, 
and  plucking  forth  his  handkerchief,  blew  a  tremendous 


442  EVAN  HAREINGTON 

trumpet,  that  sent  the  Countess's  eyes  rolling  to  the  ceil- 
ing, as  if  heaven  were  her  sole  refuge  from  such  vulgarity. 

"  Damn  that  Old  Tom  ! "  he  shouted  at  last,  and  pitched 
back  in  his  chair. 

"  Mr.  Cogglesby ! "  and  "  In  the  presence  of  ladies !  "  were 
the  admonishing  interjections  of  the  sisters,  at  whom  the 
little  man  frowned  in  turns. 

"  Do  you  wish  us  to  quit  the  room,  sir  ?  "  inquired  his 
wife. 

"  God  bless  your  soul,  you  little  darling ! "  he  apostro- 
phized that  stately  person.  "Here,  come  along  with  me, 
Harry.  A  wife's  a  wife,  /  say  —  hang  it !  Just  Qutside  the 
room  —  just  a  second !  or  up  in  a  corner  will  do." 

Mrs.  Cogglesby  was  amazed  to  see  him  jump  up  and  run 
round  to  her.  She  was  prepared  to  defend  her  neck  from 
his  caress,  and  refused  to  go :  but  the  words,  "  Something 
particular  to  tell  you,"  awakened  her  curiosity,  which  urged 
her  to  compliance.  She  rose  and  went  with  him  to  the 
door. 

"Well,  sir;  what  is  it?" 

No  doubt  he  was  acting  under  a  momentary  weakness : 
he  was  about  to  betray  the  plot  and  take  his  chance  of  for- 
giveness :  but  her  towering  port,  her  commanding  aspect, 
restored  his  courage.  (There  may  be  a  contrary  view  of 
the  case.)  He  enclosed  her  briskly  in  a  connubial  hug,  and 
remarked  with  mad  ecstasy :  "  What  a  duck  you  are,  Harry ! 
What  a  likeness  between  you  and  your  mother." 

Mrs.  Cogglesby  disengaged  herself  imperiously.  Had  he 
called  her  aside  for  this  gratuitous  insult  ?  Contrite,  he 
saw  his  dreadful  error. 

"  Harry !  I  declare  ! "  was  all  he  was  allowed  to  say. 
Mrs.  Cogglesby  marched  back  to  her  chair,  and  recommenced 
the  repast  in  majestic  silence. 

Andrew  sighed  ;  he  attempted  to  do  the  same.  He  stuck 
his  fork  in  the  blanched  whiskerage  of  his  marmoset,  and 
exclaimed :  "  I  can't !  " 

He  was  unnoticed. 

"You  do  not  object  to  plain  diet?"  said  Harriet  to 
Louisa. 

"  Oh,  no,  in  verity !  "  murmured  the  Countess.  "  However 
plain  it  be !    Absence  of  appetite,  dearest.     You  are  aware 


CONTAINS   A   WARNING  TO   ALL   CONSPIRATORS      443 

I  partook  of  luncheon  at  mid-day  with  the  Honourable  and 
Reverend  Mr.  Duffian.  You  must  not  look  condemnation 
at  your  Louy  for  that.     Luncheon  is  not  conversion  ! " 

Harriet  observed  that  this  might  be  true ;  but  still,  to  her 
mind,  it  was  a  mistake  to  be  too  intimate  with  dangerous 
people.  "  And  besides,"  she  added,  "  Mr.  Duffian  is  no  longer 
*  the  Reverend.'  We  deprive  all  renegades  of  their  spiritual 
titles.     His  worldly  ones  let  him  keep  ! " 

Her  superb  disdain  nettled  the  Countess. 

"  Dear  Harriet ! "  she  said,  with  less  languor,  "  you  are 
utterly  and  totally  and  entirely  mistaken.  I  tell  you  so 
positively.  Renegade !  The  application  of  such  a  word  to 
such  a  man !  Oh !  and  it  is  false,  Harriet :  quite !  Rene- 
gade means  one  who  has  gone  over  to  the  Turks,  my  dear. 
I  am  most  certain  I  saw  it  in  Johnson's  Dictionary,  or  an 
improvement  upon  Johnson,  by  a  more  learned  author.  But 
there  is  the  fact,  if  Harriet  can  only  bring  her  —  shall  I  say 
stiff-necked  prejudices  to  envisage  it  ?  " 

Harriet  granted  her  sister  permission  to  apply  the  phrases 
she  stood  in  need  of,  without  impeaching  her  intimacy  with 
the  most  learned  among  lexicographers. 

"  And  is  there  no  such  thing  as  being  too  severe  ?  "  the 
Countess  resumed.     "  What  our  enemies  call  unchristian ! " 

"  Mr.  Duffian  has  no  cause  to  complain  of  us,"  said  Harriet. 

"  Nor  does  he  do  so,  dearest.  Calumny  may  assail  him ; 
you  may  utterly  denude  him " 

"  Adam !  "  interposed  Andrew,  distractedly  listening.  He 
did  not  disturb  the  Countess's  flow. 

"You  may  vilify  and  victimize  Mr.  Duffian,  and  strip 
him  of  the  honours  of  his  birth,  but,  like  the  Martyrs,  he 
will  still  continue  the  perfect  nobleman.  Stoned,  I  assure 
you  that  Mr.  Duffian  would  preserve  his  breeding.  In  char- 
acter he  is  exquisite;  a  polish  to  defy  misfortune." 

"I  suppose  his  table  is  good?"  said  Harriet,  almost 
ruffled  by  the  Countess's  lecture. 

"Plate,"  was  remarked  in  the  cold  tone  of  supreme 
indifference. 

"Hem!  good  wines?"  Andrew  asked,  waking  up  a  little, 
and  not  wishing  to  be  excluded  altogether. 

"  All  is  of  the  very  best,"  the  Countess  pursued  her  eulogy, 
not  looking  at  him. 


4A^  EVAN  HAERINGTON 

"Don't  you  think  you  could  —  eh,  Harry?  —  manage  a 
pint  for  me,  my  dear?  "  Andrew  humbly  petitioned.  "  This 
cold  water  —  ha!  ha!  my  stomach  don't  like  cold  bathing," 

His  wretched  joke  rebounded  from  the  impenetrable 
armour  of  the  ladies. 

"The  wine-cellar  is  locked,"  said  his  wife.  "I  have 
sealed  up  the  key  till  an  inventory  can  be  taken  by  some 
agent  of  the  creditors." 

"What  creditors?"  roared  Andrew. 

"You  can  have  some  of  the  servants'  beer,"  Mrs.  Cog- 
glesby  appended. 

Andrew  studied  her  face  to  see  whether  she  really  was 
not  hoisting  him  with  his  own  petard.  Perceiving  that 
she  was  sincerely  acting  according  to  her  sense  of  prin- 
ciple, he  fumed,  and  departed  to  his  privacy,  unable  to 
stand  it  any  longer. 

Then  like  a  kite  the  Countess  pounced  upon  his  character. 
Would  the  Honourable  and  Reverend  Mr.  Dufl&an  decline  to 
participate  in  the  sparest  provender?  Would  he  be  guilty 
of  the  discourtesy  of  leaving  table  without  a  bow  or  an 
apology,  even  if  reduced  to  extremest  poverty?  No,  in- 
deed! which  showed  that,  under  all  circumstances,  a  gen- 
tleman was  a  gentleman.  And,  oh!  how  she  pitied  her  poor 
Harriet  —  eternally  tied  to  a  most  vulgar  little  man,  with- 
out the  gilding  of  wealth. 

"  And  a  fool  in  his  business  to  boot,  dear !  " 

"  These  comparisons  do  no  good, "  said  Harriet.  "  Andrew 
at  least  is  not  a  renegade,  and  never  shall  be  while  I  live. 
I  will  do  my  duty  by  him,  however  poor  we  are.  And  now, 
Louisa,  putting  my  husband  out  of  the  question,  what  are 
your  intentions?  I  don't  understand  bankruptcy,  but  I 
imagine  they  can  do  nothing  to  wife  and  children.  My 
little  ones  must  have  a  roof  over  their  heads ;  and,  besides, 
there  is  little  Maxwell.  You  decline  to  go  down  to  Lym- 
port,  of  course." 

"Decline!"  cried  the  Countess,  melodiously;  "and  do 
not  you?" 

"  As  far  as  I  am  concerned,  —  yes.  But  I  am  not  to  think 
of  myself." 

The  Countess  meditated,  and  said:  "Dear  Mr.  Duffian 
has  offered  me  his  hospitality.     Renegades  are  not  abso- 


CONTAINS   A   WARNING   TO   ALL   CONSPIRATORS      445 

lutely  inhuman.  They  may  be  generous.  I  have  no  moral 
doubt  that  Mr.  Duffian  would,  upon  my  representation  — 
dare  I  venture?" 

"  Sleep  in  his  house !  break  bread  with  him !  "  exclaimed 
Harriet.  "What  do  you  think  I  am  made  of?  I  would 
perish  —  go  to  the  workhouse,  rather !  " 

"I  see  you  trooping  there,"  said  the  Countess,  intent  on 
the  vision. 

"And  have  you  accepted  his  invitation  for  yourself, 
Louisa?  " 

The  Countess  was  never  to  be  daunted  by  threatening 
aspects.  She  gave  her  affirmative  with  calmness  and  a 
deliberate  smile. 

"  You  are  going  to  live  with  him?  " 

"Live  with  him!  What  expressions!  My  husband 
accompanies  me." 

Harriet  drew  up. 

"I  know  nothing,  Louisa,  that  could  give  me  more  pain." 

The  Countess  patted  Harriet's  knee.  "It  succeeds  to 
bankruptcy,  assuredly.  But  would  you  have  me  drag 
Silva  to  the  —  the  shop,  Harriet,  love?    Alternatives!" 

Mrs.  Andrew  got  up  and  rang  the  bell  to  have  the  remains 
of  their  dinner  removed.     When  this  was  done,  she  said : 

"  Louisa,  I  don't  know  whether  I  am  justified :  you  told 
me  to-day  I  might  keep  my  jewels,  trinkets,  and  lace,  and 
such  like.  To  me,  I  know  they  do  not  belong  now:  but  I 
will  dispose  of  them  to  procure  you  an  asylum  somewhere 
—  they  will  fetch,  I  should  think,  400Z., — to  prevent 
your  going  to  Mr.  Duffian." 

No  exhibition  of  great-mindedness  which  the  Countess 
could  perceive,  ever  found  her  below  it. 

"  Never,  love,  never !  "  she  said. 

"  Then,  will  you  go  to  Evan?  " 

"Evan?  I  hate  him!  "  The  olive-hued  visage  was  dark. 
It  brightened  as  she  added,  "  At  least  as  much  as  my  reli- 
gious sentiments  permit  me  to.  A  boy  who  has  thwarted 
me  at  every  turn !  —  disgraced  us !  Indeed,  I  find  it  diffi- 
cult to  pardon  you  the  supposition  of  such  a  possibility  as 
your  own  consent  to  look  on  him  ever  again,  Harriet." 

"You  have  no  children,"  said  Mrs.  Andrew. 

The  Countess  mournfully  admitted  it. 


446  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"There  lies  your  danger  with  Mr.  Duffian,  Louisa!  " 

"What!  do  you  doubt  my  virtue?"  asked  the  Countess. 

"Pish!  I  fear  something  different.  You  understand  me. 
Mr.  Duffian's  moral  reputation  is  none  of  the  best,  perhaps." 

"That  was  before  he  renegaded,"  said  the  Countess. 

Harriet  bluntly  rejoined :  "  You  will  leave  that  house  a 
Roman  Catholic." 

"Now  you  have  spoken,"  said  the  Countess,  pluming. 
"Now  let  me  explain  myself.  My  dear,  I  have  fought 
worldly  battles  too  long  and  too  earnestly.  I  am  rightly 
punished.  I  do  but  quote  Herbert  Duffian's  own  words: 
he  is  no  flatterer  —  though  you  say  he  has  such  soft  fingers. 
I  am  now  engaged  in  a  spiritual  contest.  He  is  very 
wealthy!  I  have  resolved  to  rescue  back  to  our  Church 
what  can  benefit  the  flock  of  which  we  form  a  portion,  so 
exceedingly ! " 

At  this  revelation  of  the  Countess's  spiritual  contest, 
Mrs.  Andrew  shook  a  worldly  head. 

"You  have  no  chance  with  men  there,  Louisa." 

"  My  Harriet  complains  of  female  weakness ! " 

"Yes.  We  are  strong  in  our  own  element,  Louisa. 
Don't  be  tempted  out  of  it." 

Sublime,  the  Countess  rose : 

"Element!  am  I  to  be  confined  to  one?  What  but  spirit- 
ual solaces  could  assist  me  to  live,  after  the  degradations  I 
have  had  heaped  on  me?  I  renounce  the  world.  I  turn 
my  sight  to  realms  where  caste  is  unknown.  I  feel  no 
shame  there  of  being  a  tailor's  daughter.  You  see,  I  can 
bring  my  tongue  to  name  the  thing  in  its  actuality.  Once, 
that  member  would  have  blistered.  Confess  to  me  that,  in 
spite  of  your  children,  you  are  tempted  to  howl  at  the  idea 
of  Lymport  —  " 

The  Countess  paused,  and  like  a  lady  about  to  tire  off  a 
gun,  appeared  to  tighten  her  nerves,  crying  out  rapidly  — 

"  Shop !  Shears !  Geese !  Cabbage !  Snip !  Nine  to  a 
man ! " 

Even  as  the  silence  after  explosions  of  cannon,  that 
which  reigned  in  the  room  was  deep  and  dreadful. 

"See,"  the  Countess  continued,  "you  are  horrified:  you 
shudder.  I  name  all  our  titles,  and  if  I  wish  to  be  red  in 
my  cheeks,  I  must  rouge.     It  is,  in  verity,  as  if  my  sense- 


CONTAINS  A  WARNING  TO  ALL  CONSPIRATORS      447 

less  clay  were  pelted,  as  we  heard  of  Evan  at  his  first 
Lymport  boys'  school.  You  remember  when  he  told  us 
the  story?  He  lisped  a  trifle  then.  'I'm  the  thon  of  a 
thnip.'  Oh!  it  was  hell-fire  to  us  then;  but  now,  what 
do  I  feel  ?  Why,  I  avowed  it  to  Herbert.  Duffian  openly, 
and  he  said,  that  the  misfortune  of  dear  Papa's  birth  did 
not  the  less  enable  him  to  proclaim  himself  in  conduct  a 
nobleman's  offspring  —  " 

"Which  he  never  was."  Harriet  broke  the  rhapsody  in 
a  monotonous  low  tone :  the  Countess  was  not  compelled  to 
hear: 

"  —  and  that  a  large  outfitter  —  one  of  the  very  largest, 
was  in  reality  a  merchant,  whose  daughters  have  often 
wedded  nobles  of  the  land,  and  become  ancestresses!  Now, 
Harriet,  do  you  see  what  a  truly  religious  mind  can  do  for 
us  in  the  way  of  comfort?  Oh!  I  bow  in  gratitude  to  Her- 
bert Duffian.  I  will  not  rest  till  I  have  led  him  back  to 
our  fold,  recovered  from  his  error.  He  was  our  own  preacher 
and  pastor.  He  quitted  us  from  conviction.  He  shall 
return  to  us  from  conviction." 

The  Countess  quoted  texts,  which  I  respect,  and  will  not 
repeat.  She  descanted  further  on  spiritualism,  and  on  the 
balm  that  it  was  to  tailors  and  their  offspring ;  to  all  outcasts 
from  Society. 

Overpowered  by  her,  Harriet  thus  summed  up  her  opinions : 
"  You  were  always  self-willed,  Louisa." 

"  Say,  full  of  sacrifice,  if  you  would  be  just,"  added  the 
Countess ;  "  and  the  victim  of  basest  ingratitude." 

"  Well,  you  are  in  a  dangerous  path,  Louisa." 

Harriet  had  the  last  word,  which  usually  the  Countess 
was  not  disposed  to  accord;  but  now  she  knew  herself 
strengthened  to  do  so,  and  was  content  to  smile  pityingly 
on  her  sister. 

Full  upon  them  in  this  frame  of  mind,  arrived  Caroline's 
great  news  from  Beckley. 

It  was  then  that  the  Countess's  conduct  proved  a  memo- 
rable refutation  of  cynical  philosophy;  she  rejoiced  in  the 
good  fortune  of  him  who  had  offended  her!  Though  he 
was  not  crushed  and  annihilated  (as  he  deserved  to  be)  by 
the  wrong  he  had  done,  the  great-hearted  woman  pardoned 
him! 


448  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Her  first  remark  was :  "Let  him  thank  me  for  it  or  not,  I 
will  lose  no  moment  in  hastening  to  load  him  with  my  con- 
gratulations." 

Pleasantly  she  joked  Andrew,  and  defended  him  from 
Harriet  now. 

"  So  we  are  not  all  bankrupts,  you  see,  dear  brother-in-law." 

Andrew  had  become  so  demoralized  by  his  own  plot,  that 
in  every  turn  of  events  he  scented  a  similar  piece  of  human 
ingenuity.  Harriet  was  angry  with  his  disbelief,  or  say,  the 
grudging  credit  he  gave  to  the  glorious  news.  Notwithstand- 
ing her  calmness,  the  thoughts  of  Lymport  had  sickened  her 
soul,  and  it  was  only  for  the  sake  of  her  children,  and  from 
a  sense  of  the  dishonesty  of  spending  a  farthing  of  the  money 
belonging,  as  she  conceived,  to  the  creditors,  that  she  had 
consented  to  go. 

"  I  see  your  motive,  Mr.  Cogglesby,"  she  observed.  "  Your 
measures  are  disconcerted.  I  will  remain  here  till  my  brother 
gives  me  shelter." 

"  Oh,  that'll  do,  my  love ;  that's  all  I  want,"  said  Andrew, 
sincerely. 

"  Both  of  you,  fools ! "  the  Countess  interjected.  "  Know 
you  Evan  so  little  ?  He  will  receive  us  anywhere :  his  arms 
are  open  to  his  kindred :  but  to  his  heart  the  road  is  through 
humiliation,  and  it  is  to  his  heart  we  seek  admittance." 

"  What  do  you  mean  ?  "  Harriet  inquired. 

"  Just  this,"  the  Countess  answered  in  bold  English :  and 
her  eyes  were  lively,  her  figure  elastic :  "  We  must  all  of  us 
go  down  to  the  old  shop  and  shake  his  hand  there  —  every 
man  Jack  of  us  !  —  I'm  only  quoting  the  sailors,  Harriet  — 
and  that's  the  way  to  win  him." 

She  snapped  her  fingers,  laughing.  Harriet  stared  at  her, 
and  so  did  Andrew,  though  for  a  different  reason.  She 
seemed  to  be  transformed.  Seeing  him  inclined  to  gape,  she 
ran  up  to  him,  caught  up  his  chin  between  her  ten  fingers, 
and  kissed  him  on  both  cheeks,  saying : 

"  Ton  needn't  come,  if  you're  too  proud,  you  know,  little 
man!" 

And  to  Harriet's  look  of  disgust,  the  cause  for  which  she 
divined  with  her  native  rapidity,  she  said :  "  What  does  it 
matter  ?  They  will  talk,  but  they  can't  look  down  on  us 
now.     Why,  this  is  my  doing ! " 


CONTAINS  A   WARNING  TO  ALL  CONSPIRATORS     449 

She  came  tripping  to  her  tall  sister,  to  ask  plaintively : 
"  MaynH  I  be  glad  ?  "  and  bobbed  a  curtsey. 

Harriet  desired  Andrew  to  leave  them.  Flushed  and 
indignant  she  then  faced  the  Countess. 

"  So  unnecessary !  "  she  began.  "What  can  excuse  your 
indiscretion,  Louisa  ?  " 

The  Countess  smiled  to  hear  her  talking  to  her  younger 
sister  once  more.     She  shrugged. 

"  Oh,  if  you  will  keep  up  the  fiction,  do.  Andrew  knows 
—  he  isn't  an  idiot  —  and  to  him  we  can  make  light  of  it 
now.     What  does  anybody's  birth  matter,  who's  well  off  ?  " 

It  was  impossible  for  Harriet  to  take  that  view.  The  shop, 
if  not  the  thing,  might  still  have  been  concealed  from  her 
husband,  she  thought. 

"It  mattered  to  me  when  7  was  well  off,"  she  said  sternly. 

"  Yes ;  and  to  me  when  I  was ;  but  we've  had  a  fall  and  a 
lesson  since  that,  my  dear.  Half  the  aristocracy  of  England 
spring  from  shops  !  —  Shall  I  measure  you  ?  " 

Harriet  never  felt  such  a  desire  to  inflict  a  slap  upon  mor- 
tal cheek.  She  marched  away  from  her  in  a  tiff.  On  the 
other  hand,  Andrew  was  half  fascinated  by  the  Countess's 
sudden  re-assumption  of  girlhood,  and  returned  —  silly  fel- 
low !  to  have  another  look  at  her.  She  had  ceased,  on  reflec- 
tion, to  be  altogether  so  vivacious :  her  stronger  second 
nature  had  somewhat  resumed  its  empire:  still  she  was 
fresh,  and  could  at  times  be  roguishly  affectionate :  and  she 
patted  him,  and  petted  him,  and  made  much  of  him ;  slightly 
railed  at  him  for  his  uxoriousness  and  domestic  subjection, 
and  proffered  him  her  fingers  to  try  the  taste  of.  The 
truth  miist  be  told :  Mr.  Duffian  not  being  handy,  she  in 
her  renewed  earthly  happiness  wanted  to  see  her  charms 
in  a  woman's  natural  mirror:  namely,  the  face  of  man:  if 
of  man  on  his  knees,  all  the  better :  and  though  a  little 
man  is  not  much  of  a  man,  and  a  sister's  husband  is,  or 
should  be,  hardly  one  at  all,  still  some  sort  of  a  reflector  he 
must  be.  Two  or  three  jests  adapted  to  Andrew's  palate 
achieved  his  momentary  captivation. 

He  said :  "  'Gad,  I  never  kissed  you  in  my  life,  Louy." 

And  she,  with  a  flavour  of  delicate  Irish  brogue,  "  Why 
don't  ye  catch  opportunity  by  the  tail,  then  ?  " 

Perfect  innocence,  I  assure  you,  on  both  sides. 


450  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

But  mark  how  stupidity  betrays.  Andrew  failed  to  under- 
stand her,  and  act  on  the  hint  immediately.  Had  he  done 
so,  the  affair  would  have  been  over  without  a  witness.  As 
it  happened,  delay  permitted  Harriet  to  assist  at  the  cere- 
mony. 

"  It  wasn't  your  mouth,  Louy,"  said  Andrew. 

"Oh,  my  mouth! — that  I  keep  for  my  chosen,"  was 
answered. 

"'Gad  you  make  a  fellow  almost  wish — "  Andrew's 
fingers  worked  over  his  poll,  and  then  the  spectre  of  right- 
eous wrath  flashed  on  him  —  naughty  little  man  that  he 
was !  He  knew  himself  naughty,  for  it  was  the  only  time 
since  his  marriage  that  he  had  ever  been  sorry  to  see  his 
wife.  This  is  a  comedy,  and  I  must  not  preach  lessons  of 
life  here:  but  I  am  obliged  to  remark  that  the  husband 
must  be  proof,  the  sister-in-law  perfect,  where  arrangements 
exist  that  keep  them  under  one  roof.  She  may  be  so  like 
his  wife !  Or,  from  the  knowledge  she  has  of  his  circum- 
stances, she  may  talk  to  him  almost  as  his  wife.  He  may 
forget  that  she  is  not  his  wife !  And  then  again,  the  small 
beginnings,  which  are  in  reality  the  mighty  barriers,  are  so 
easily  slid  over.  But  what  is  the  use  of  telling  this  to  a 
pure  generation?  My  constant  error  is  in  supposing  that  I 
write  for  the  wicked  people  who  begat  us. 

Note,  however,  the  difference  between  the  woman  and  the 
man!  Shame  confessed  Andrew's  naughtiness;  he  snig- 
gered pitiably :  whereas  the  Countess  jumped  up,  and  point- 
ing at  him,  asked  her  sister  what  she  thought  of  that.  Her 
next  sentence,  coolly  delivered,  related  to  some  millinery 
matter.     If  this  was  not  innocence,  what  is  ? 

Nevertheless,  I  must  here  state  that  the  scene  related, 
innocent  as  it  was,  and,  as  one  would  naturally  imagine,  of 
puny  consequence,  if  any,  did  no  less  a  thing  than,  subse- 
quently, to  precipitate  the  Protestant  Countess  de  Saldar 
into  the  bosom  of  the  Roman  Catholic  Church.  A  little  bit 
of  play ! 

It  seems  barely  just.  But  if,  as  I  have  heard,  a  lady  has 
trod  on  a  pebble  and  broken  her  nose,  tremendous  results 
like  these  warn  us  to  be  careful  how  we  walk.  As  for  play, 
it  was  never  intended  that  we  should  play  with  flesh  and 
blood. 


CONTAINS   A   WARNING   TO  ALL   CONSPIRATORS      451 

And,  oh,  be  charitable,  matrons  of  Britain!  See  here, 
Andrew  Cogglesby,  who  loved  his  wife  as  his  very  soul,  and 
who  almost  disliked  her  sister ;  —  in  ten  minutes  the  latter 
had  set  his  head  spinning !  The  whole  of  the  day  he  went 
about  the  house  meditating  frantically  on  the  possibility  of 
his  Harriet  demanding  a  divorce. 

She  was  not  the  sort  of  woman  to  do  that.  But  one  thing 
she  resolved  to  do;  and  it  was,  to  go  to  Lymport  with 
Louisa,  and  having  once  got  her  out  of  her  dwelling-place, 
never  to  allow  her  to  enter  it,  wherever  it  might  be,  in  the 
light  of  a  resident  again.  Whether  anything  but  the 
menace  of  a  participation  in  her  conjugal  possessions  could 
have  despatched  her  to  that  hateful  place,  I  doubt.  She 
went :  she  would  not  let  Andrew  be  out  of  her  sight.  Grow- 
ing haughtier  toward  him  at  every  step,  she  advanced  to 
the  strange  old  shop.  Evan  Harrington  over  the  door ! 
There  the  Countess,  having  meantime  returned  to  her  state 
of  womanhood,  shared  her  shudders.  They  entered,  and 
passed  in  to  Mrs.  Mel,  leaving  their  footman,  apparently,  in 
the  rear.  Evan  was  not  visible.  A  man  in  the  shop,  with  a 
yard  measure  negligently  adorning  his  shoulders,  said  that 
Mr.  Harrington  was  in  the  habit  of  quitting  the  shop  at  five, 

"  Deuced  good  habit,  too,"  said  Andrew. 

"  Why,  sir,"  observed  another,  stepping  forward,  "  as  you 
truly  say  —  yes.  But  —  ah !  Mr.  Andrew  Cogglesby  ? 
Pleasure  of  meeting  you  once  in  Eallowfield!  Remember 
Mr.  Perkins  ?  — the  lawyer,  not  the  maltster.  Will  you  do 
me  the  favour  to  step  out  with  me  ?  " 

Andrew  followed  him  into  the  street. 

"Are  you  aware  of  our  young  friend's  good  fortune?" 
said  Lawyer  Perkins.  "Yes.  Ah!  Well!  —  Would  you 
believe  that  any  sane  person  in  his  condition,  now  —  non- 
sense apart  —  could  bring  his  mind  wilfully  to  continue  a 
beggar  ?  No.  Um !  Well,  Mr.  Cogglesby,  I  may  tell  yoii 
that  I  hold  here  in  my  hands  a  document  by  which  Mr. 
Evan  Harrington  transfers  the  whole  of  the  property  be- 
queathed to  him  to  Lady  Jocelyn,  and  that  I  have  his 
orders  to  execute  it  instantly,  and  deliver  it  over  to  her 
ladyship,  after  the  will  is  settled,  probate,  and  so  forth :  I 
presume  there  will  be  an  arrangement  about  his  father's 
debts.     Now  what  do  you  think  of  that  ?  " 


452  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"  Think,  sir,  —  think ! "  cried  Andrew,  cocking  his  head 
at  him  like  an  indignant  bird,  "I  think  he's  a  damned 
young  idiot  to  do  so,  and  you're  a  confounded  old  rascal  to 
help  him." 

Leaving  Mr.  Perkins  to  digest  his  judgement,  which  he 
had  solicited,  Andrew  bounced  back  into  the  shop. 


CHAPTER  XLV 

IN  WHICH  THE   SHOP    BECOMES  THE  CENTKB  OF   ATTRACTION 

Under  the  first  lustre  of  a  May-night,  Evan  was  gallop- 
ing over  the  moon-shadowed  downs  toward  Beckley.  At  the 
ridge  commanding  the  woods,  the  park,  and  the  stream,  his 
horse  stopped,  as  if  from  habit,  snorted,  and  puffed  its  sides, 
while  he  gazed  steadily  across  the  long  lighted  vale.  Soon 
he  began  to  wind  down  the  glaring  chalk-track,  and  reached 
grass  levels.  Here  he  broke  into  a  round  pace,  till,  gaining 
the  first  straggling  cottages  of  the  village,  he  knocked  the 
head  of  his  whip  against  the  garden-gate  of  one,  and  a  man 
came  out,  who  saluted  him,  and  held  the  reins. 

"  Animal  does  work,  sir,"  said  the  man. 

Evan  gave  directions  for  it  to  be  looked  to,  and  went  on 
to  the  doorway,  where  he  was  met  by  a  young  woman.  She 
uttered  a  respectful  greeting,  and  begged  him  to  enter. 

The  door  closed,  he  flung  himself  into  a  chair,  and  said: 
"Well,  Susan,  how  is  the  child?" 

"  Oh !  he's  always  well,  Mr.  Harrington ;  he  don't  know 
the  tricks  o'  trouble  yet." 

"  Will  Polly  be  here  soon  ?  " 

"  At  a  quarter  after  nine  she  said,  sir." 

Evan  bade  her  sit  down.  After  examining  her  features 
quietly,  he  said : 

"  I'm  glad  to  see  you  here,  Susan.  You  don't  regret  that 
you  followed  my  advice  ?  " 

"  No,  sir ;  now  it's  over,  I  don't.  Mother's  kind  enough, 
and  father  doesn't  mention  anything.  She's  a-bed  with  bile 
—  father's  out" 


THE  SHOP  BECOMES   AN   ATTRACTION  453 

"  But  what  ?    There's  something  on  your  mind." 

"I  shall  cry,  if  I  begin,  Mr.  Harrington." 

"  See  how  far  you  can  get  without." 

"  Oh !  sir,  then,"  said  Susan,  on  a  sharp  rise  of  her  bosom, 
"  it  ain't  my  fault.  I  wouldn't  cause  trouble  to  Mr.  Harry, 
or  any  friend  of  yours;  but,  sir,  father  have  got  hold  of  his 
letters  to  me,  and  he  says,  there's  a  promise  in  'em  —  least, 
one  of  'em;  and  it's  as  good  as  law,  he  says  —  he  heard  it 
in  a  public-house;  and  he's  gone  over  to  Fall'field  to  a  law- 
gentleman  there."  Susan  was  compelled  to  give  way  to 
some  sobs.  "  It  ain't  for  me  father  does  it,  sir, "  she  pleaded. 
"  I  tried  to  stop  him,  knowing  how  it'd  vex  you,  Mr.  Har- 
rington; but  he's  heady  about  points,  though  a  quiet  man 
ordinary;  and  he  says  he  don't  expect  —  and  I  know  now 
no  gentleman'd  marry  such  as  me  —  I  ain't  such  a  stupid 
gaper  at  words  as  I  used  to  be ;  but  father  says  it's  for  the 
child's  sake,  and  he  does  it  to  have  him  provided  for. 
Please,  don't  ye  be  angry  with  me,  sir." 

Susan's  half -con  trolled  spasms  here  got  the  better  of  her. 

While  Evan  was  awaiting  the  return  of  her  calmer  senses, 
the  latch  was  lifted,  and  Polly  appeared. 

"  At  it  again !  "  was  her  sneering  comment,  after  a  short 
survey  of  her  apron-screened  sister;  and  then  she  bobbed 
to  Evan. 

"  It's  whimper,  whimper,  and  squeak,  squeak,  half  their 
lives  with  some  girls.  After  that  they  go  wondering  they 
can't  see  to  thread  a  needle!  The  neighbours,  I  suppose. 
I  should  like  to  lift  the  top  off  some  o'  their  houses.  I 
hope  I  haven't  kept  you,  sir." 

"No,  Polly,"  said  Evan;  "but  you  must  be  charitable,  or 
I  shall  think  you  want  a  lesson  yourself.  Mr.  Raikes  tells 
me  you  want  to  see  me.  What  is  it?  You  seem  to  be 
correspondents . " 

Polly  replied :  "  Oh,  no,  Mr.  Harrington :  only  accidental 
ones  —  when  something  particular's  to  be  said.  And  he 
dances-like  on  the  paper,  so  that  you  can't  help  laughing. 
Isn't  he  a  very  eccentric  gentleman,  sir?" 

"Very,"  said  Evan,     "  I've  no  time  to  lose,  Polly." 

"Here,  you  must  go,"  the  latter  called  to  her  sister. 
"Now  pack  at  once.  Sue.  Do  rout  out,  and  do  leave  off 
thinking  you've  got  a  candle  at  your  eyes,  for  goodness' 
sakel" 


464  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Susan  was  too  well  accustomed  to  Polly's  usage  to  com- 
plain. She  murmured  a  gentle  "Good  night,  sir,"  and 
retired.  Whereupon  Polly  exclaimed:  "Bless  her  poor 
dear  soft  heart!  It's  us  hard  ones  that  get  on  best  in  the 
world.  I'm  treated  better  than  her,  Mr.  Harrington,  and  I 
know  I  ain't  worth  half  of  her.  It  goes  nigh  to  make  one 
religious,  only  to  see  how  exactly  like  Scripture  is  the  way 
Beckley  treats  her,  whose  only  sin  is  her  being  so  soft  as 
to  believe  in  a  man !  Oh,  dear !  Mr.  Harrington !  I  wish  I 
had  good  news  for  you." 

In  spite  of  all  his  self-control,  Evan  breathed  quickly 
and  looked  eagerly. 

"Speak  it  out,  Polly." 

"Oh,  dear!  I  must,  I  suppose,"  Polly  answered.  "Mr. 
Laxley's  become  a  lord  now,  Mr.  Harrington." 

Evan  tasted  in  his  soul  the  sweets  of  contrast. 

"Well?" 

"  And  my  Miss  Rose  —  she  —  " 

"What?" 

Moved  by  the  keen  hunger  of  his  eyes,  Polly  hesitated. 
Her  face  betrayed  a  sudden  change  of  mind. 

"Wants  to  see  you,  sir,"  she  said  resolutely. 

"To  see  me?" 

Evan  stood  up,  so  pale  that  Polly  was  frightened. 

"Where  is  she?    Where  can  I  meet  her?" 

"Please  don't  take  it  so,  Mr.  Harrington." 

Evan  commanded  her  to  tell  him  what  her  mistress  had 
said. 

Now  up  to  this  point  Polly  had  spoken  truth.  She  was 
positive  her  mistress  did  want  to  see  him.  Polly,  also, 
with  a  maiden's  tender  guile,  desired  to  bring  them  together 
for  once,  though  it  were  for  the  last  time,  and  for  no  good 
on  earth.  She  had  been  about  to  confide  to  him  her  young 
mistress's  position  toward  Lord  Laxley,  when  his  sharp 
interrogation  stopped  her.  Shrinking  from  absolute  inven- 
tion, she  remarked  that  of  course  she  could  not  exactly 
remember  Miss  Rose's  words;  which  seemed  indeed  too 
much  to  expect  of  her. 

"She  will  see  me  to-night?"  said  Evan. 

"I  don't  know  about  to-night,"  Polly  replied. 

"  Go  to  her  instantly.     Tell  her  I  am  ready.     I  will  be 


THE  SHOP  BECOMES   AN   ATTRACTION  455 

at  the  West  park-gates.  This  is  why  you  wrote,  Polly? 
Why  did  you  lose  time?  Don't  delay,  my  good  girl! 
Come!" 

Evan  had  opened  the  door.  He  would  not  allow  Polly 
an  instant  for  expostulation;  but  drew  her  out,  saying, 
"  You  will  attend  to  the  gates  yourself.  Or  come  and  tell 
me  the  day,  if  she  appoints  another." 

Polly  made  a  final  effort  to  escape  from  the  pit  she  was 
being  pushed  into. 

"  Mr.  Harrington !  it  wasn't  to  tell  you  this  I  wrote. 
Miss  Eose  is  engaged,  sir." 

"I  understand,"  said  Evan,  hoarsely,  scarcely  feeling  it, 
as  is  the  case  with  men  who  are  shot  through  the  heart. 

Ten  minutes  later  he  was  on  horseback  by  the  Fallowfield 
gates,  with  the  tidings  shrieking  through  his  frame.  The 
night  was  still,  and  stiller  in  the  pauses  of  the  nightingales. 
He  sat  there,  neither  thinking  of  them  nor  reproached  in 
his  manhood  for  the  tears  that  rolled  down  his  cheeks. 
Presently  his  horse's  ears  pricked,  and  the  animal  gave  a 
low  neigh.  Evan's  eyes  fixed  harder  on  the  length  of 
gravel  leading  to  the  house.  There  was  no  sign,  no  figure. 
Out  from  the  smooth  grass  of  the  lane  a  couple  of  horsemen 
issued,  and  came  straight  to  the  gates.  He  heard  nothing 
till  one  spoke.     It  was  a  familiar  voice. 

"  By  Jove,  Ferdy,  here  is  the  fellow,  and  weWe  been  all 
the  way  to  Lymport !  " 

Evan  started  from  his  trance. 

"It's  you,  Harrington?"  . 

"Yes,  Harry." 

"  Sir !  "  exclaimed  that  youth,  evidently  flushed  with  wine, 
"what  the  devil  do  you  mean  by  addressing  me  by  my 
Christian  name?" 

Laxley  pushed  his  horse's  head  in  front  of  Harry.  In  a 
manner  apparently  somewhat  improved  by  his  new  dignity, 
he  said :  "  We  have  ridden  to  Lymport  to  speak  to  you,  sir. 
Favour  me  by  moving  a  little  ahead  of  the  lodge." 

Evan  bowed,  and  moved  beside  him  a  short  way  down  the 
lane,  Harry  following. 

"  The  purport  of  my  visit,  sir, "  Laxley  began,  "  was  to 
make  known  to  you  that  Miss  Jocelyn  has  done  me  the 
honour  to  accept  me  as  her  husband.     I  learn  from  her  that 


456  BVAN  HABEINGTON 

during  the  term  of  your  residence  in  the  house,  you  con- 
trived to  extract  from  her  a  promise  to  which  she  attaches 
certain  scruples.  She  pleases  to  consider  herself  bound 
to  you  till  you  release  her.  My  object  is  to  demand  that 
you  will  do  so  immediately." 

There  was  no  reply. 

"  Should  you  refuse  to  make  this  reparation  for  the  harm 
you  have  done  to  her  and  her  family,"  Laxley  pursued,  "I 
must  let  you  know  that  there  are  means  of  compelling  you 
to  it,  and  that  those  means  will  be  employed." 

Harry,  fuming  at  these  postured  sentences,  burst  out: 
"  What  do  you  talk  to  the  fellow  in  that  way  for?  A  fellow 
who  makes  a  fool  of  my  cousin,  and  then  wants  to  get  us  to 
buy  ofE  my  sister!  What's  he  spying  after  here?  The 
place  is  ours  till  we  troop.  I  tell  you  there's  only  one  way 
of  dealing  with  him,  and  if  you  don't  do  it,  I  will." 

Laxley  pulled  his  reins  with  a  jerk  that  brought  him  to 
the  rear. 

"  Miss  Jocelyn  has  commissioned  you  to  make  this  demand 
on  me  in  her  name?"  said  Evan. 

"I  make  it  in  my  own  right,"  returned  Laxley.  "I  de- 
mand a  prompt  reply." 

"  My  lord,  you  shall  have  it.  Miss  Jocelyn  is  not  bound 
to  me  by  any  engagement.  Should  she  entertain  scruples 
which  I  may  have  it  in  my  power  to  obliterate,  I  shall  not 
hesitate  to  do  so  —  but  only  to  her.  What  has  passed 
between  us  I  hold  sacred." 

"  Hark  at  that !  "  shouted  Harry.  "  The  damned  trades- 
man means  money!  You  ass,  Ferdinand!  What  did  we 
go  to  Lymport  for?  Not  to  bandy  words.  Here!  I've  got 
my  own  quarrel  with  you,  Harrington.  You've  been  set- 
ting that  girl's  father  on  me.     Can  you  deny  that?  " 

It  was  enough  for  Harry  that  Evan  did  not  deny  it.  The 
calm  disdain  which  he  read  on  Evan's  face  acted  on  his 
fury,  and  digging  his  heels  into  his  horse's  flanks  he  rushed 
full  at  him  and  dealt  him  a  sharp  flick  with  his  whip. 
Evan's  beast  reared. 

"Accept  my  conditions,  sir,  or  afford  me  satisfaction," 
cried  Laxley. 

"  You  do  me  great  honour,  my  lord ;  but  I  have  told  you 
I  cannot,"  said  Evan,  curbing  his  horse. 


THE  SHOP  BECOMES   AN   ATTEACTION  457 

At  that  moment  Eo§e  came  among  them.  Evan  raised 
his  hat,  as  did  Laxley.  Harry,  a  little  behind  the  others, 
performed  a  laborious  mock  salute,  and  then  ordered  her 
back  to  the  house.  A  quick  altercation  ensued;  the  end 
being  that  Harry  managed  to  give  his  sister  the  context  of 
the  previous  conversation. 

"  Now  go  back.  Rose,"  said  Laxley.  "  I  have  particular 
business  with  Mr.  Harrington." 

"  I  came  to  see  him,"  said  Rose,  in  a  clear  voice. 

Laxley  reddened  angrily. 

"  Then  tell  him  at  once  you  want  to  be  rid  of  him,"  her 
brother  called  to  her. 

Rose  looked  at  Evan.  Could  he  not  see  that  she  had  no 
word  in  her  soul  for  him  of  that  kind  ?  Yes :  but  love  is 
not  always  to  be  touched  to  tenderness  even  at  the  sight  of 
love. 

"Rose,"  he  said,  "I  hear  from  Lord  Laxley,  that  you 
fancy  yourself  not  at  liberty ;  and  that  you  require  me  to 
disengage  you." 

He  paused.  Did  he  expect  her  to  say  there  that  she 
wished  nothing  of  the  sort?  Her  stedfast  eyes  spoke  as 
much:  but  misery  is  wanton,  and  will  pull  all  down  to  it. 
Even  Harry  was  checked  by  his  tone,  and  Laxley  sat  silent. 
The  fact  that  something  more  than  a  tailor  was  speaking 
seemed  to  impress  them. 

"  Since  I  have  to  say  it,  Rose,  I  hold  you  in  no  way  bound 
to  me.  The  presumption  is  forced  upon  me.  May  you 
have  all  the  happiness  I  pray  God  to  give  you.  Gentlemen, 
good  night ! " 

He  bowed  and  was  gone.  How  keenly  she  could  have  re- 
torted on  that  false  prayer  for  her  happiness !  Her  limbs 
were  nerveless,  her  tongue  speechless.  He  had  thrown  her 
off  —  there  was  no  barrier  now  between  herself  and  Ferdi- 
nand, Why  did  Ferdinand  speak  to  her  with  that  air  of 
gentle  authority,  bidding  her  return  to  the  house  ?  She  was 
incapable  of  seeing,  what  the  young  lord  acutely  felt,  that 
he  had  stooped  very  much  in  helping  to  bring  about  such 
a  scene.  She  had  no  idea  of  having  trifled  with  him 
and  her  own  heart,  when  she  talked  feebly  of  her  bondage 
to  another,  as  one  who  would  be  warmer  to  him  were  she 
free.     Swiftly  she  compared  the  two  that  loved  her,  and 


458  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

shivered  as  if  she  had  been  tossed  to  the  embrace  of  a  block 
of  ice. 

"  You  are  cold,  Eose,"  said  Laxley,  bending  to  lay  his 
hand  on  her  shoulder. 

"Pray,  never  touch  me,"  she  answered,  and  walked  on 
hastily  to  the  house. 

Entering  it,  she  remembered  that  Evan  had  dwelt  there. 
A  sense  of  desolation  came  over  her.  She  turned  to  Ferdi- 
nand remorsefully,  saying :  "  Dear  Ferdinand !  "  and  allowed 
herself  to  be  touched  and  taken  close  to  him.  When  she 
reached  her  bed-room,  she  had  time  to  reflect  that  he  had 
kissed  her  on  the  lips,  and  then  she  fell  down  and  shed  such 
tears  as  had  never  been  drawn  from  her  before. 

Next  day  she  rose  with  an  undivided  mind.  Belonging 
henceforth  to  Ferdinand,  it  was  necessary  that  she  should 
invest  him  immediately  with  transcendent  qualities.  The 
absence  of  character  in  him  rendered  this  easy.  What  she 
had  done  for  Evan,  she  did  for  him.  But  now,  as  if  the 
Fates  had  been  lying  in  watch  to  entrap  her  and  chain  her, 
that  they  might  have  her  at  their  mercy,  her  dreams  of 
Evan's  high  nature — hitherto  dreams  only  —  were  to  be 
realized.  With  the  purposeless  waywardness  of  her  sex, 
Polly  Wheedle,  while  dressing  her  young  mistress,  and 
though  quite  aware  that  the  parting  had  been  spoken,  must 
needs  relate  her  sister's  story  and  Evan's  share  in  it.  Rose 
praised  him  like  one  for  ever  aloof  from  him.  Nay,  she 
could  secretly  congratulate  herself  on  not  being  deceived. 
Upon  that  came  a  letter  from  Caroline: 

"Do  not  misjudge  my  brother.  He  knew  Juliana's  love 
for  him  and  rejected  it.  You  will  soon  have  proofs  of  his 
disinterestedness.  Then  do  not  forget  that  he  works  to 
support  us  all.  I  write  this  with  no  hope  save  to  make  you 
just  to  him.    That  is  the  utmost  he  will  ever  anticipate." 

It  gave  no  beating  of  the  heart  to  Rose  to  hear  good  of 
Evan  now :  but  an  increased  serenity  of  confidence  in  the 
accuracy  of  her  judgement  of  persons. 

The  arrival  of  Lawyer  Perkins  supplied  the  key  to  Caro- 
line's communication.  No  one  was  less  astonished  than 
Rose  at  the  news  that  Evan  renounced  the  estate.   She  smiled 


THE  SHOP  BECOMES   AN   ATTRACTION  459 

at  Harry's  contrite  stupefaction,  and  her  father's  incapacity 
of  belief  in  conduct  so  singular,  caused  her  to  lift  her  head 
and  look  down  on  her  parent. 

"  Shows  he  knows  nothing  of  the  world,  poor  young  fel- 
low ! "  said  Sir  Franks. 

"Nothing  more  clearly,"  observed  Lady  Jocelyn.  "I 
presume  I  shall  cease  to  be  blamed  for  having  had  him 
here?" 

"Upon  my  honour,  he  must  have  the  soul  of  a  gentle- 
man ! "  said  the  baronet.  "  There's  nothing  he  can  expect 
in  return,  you  know ! " 

"One  would  think.  Papa,  you  had  always  been  dealing 
with  tradesmen ! "  remarked  Kose,  to  whom  her  father  now 
accorded  the  treatment  due  to  a  sensible  girl. 

Laxley  was  present  at  the  family  consTiltation.  What 
was  his  opinion  ?   Eose  manifested  a  slight  anxiety  to  hear  it. 

"  What  those  sort  of  fellows  do  never  surprises  me,"  he 
said,  with  a  semi-yawn. 

Rose  felt  fire  on  her  cheeks. 

"It's  only  what  the  young  man  is  bound  to  do,"  said 
Mrs.  Shorne. 

"  His  duty,  aunt  ?  I  hope  we  may  all  do  it ! "  Eose  inter- 
jected. 

"  Championing  him  again  ?  " 

Eose  quietly  turned  her  face,  too  sure  of  her  cold  appre- 
ciation of  him  to  retort.  But  yesterday  night  a  word  from 
him  might  have  made  her  his ;  and  here  she  sat  advocating 
the  nobility  of  his  nature  with  the  zeal  of  a  barrister  in  full 
swing  of  practice.  Eemember,  however,  that  a  kiss  separates 
them :  and  how  many  millions  of  leagues  that  counts  for  in 
love,  in  a  pure  girl's  thought,  I  leave  you  to  guess. 

Now,  in  what  way  was  Evan  to  be  thanked  ?  how  was  he 
to  be  treated  ?  Sir  Franks  proposed  to  go  down  to  him  in 
person,  accompanied  by  Harry.  Lady  Jocelyn  acquiesced. 
But  Eose  said  to  her  mother : 

"  Will  not  you  wound  his  sensitiveness  by  going  to  him 
there  ?  " 

"  Possibly,"  said  her  ladyship.  "  Shall  we  write  and  ask 
him  to  come  to  us  ?  " 

"No,  Mama.  Could  we  ask  him  to  make  a  journey  to 
receive  our  thanks  ?  " 


460  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"Not  till  we  have  solid  ones  to  offer,  perhaps." 

"  He  will  not  let  us  help  him,  Mama,  unless  we  have  all 
given  him  our  hands." 

"Probably  not.  There's  always  a  fund  of  nonsense  in 
those  who  are  capable  of  great  things,  I  observe.  It  shall 
be  a  family  expedition,  if  you  like." 

"  What ! "  exclaimed  Mrs.  Shome.  "  Do  you  mean  that 
you  intend  to  allow  Rose  to  make  one  of  the  party  ?  Franks ! 
is  that  your  idea  ?  " 

Sir  Franks  looked  at  his  wife. 

"  What  harm  ?  "  Lady  Jocelyn  asked ;  for  Rose's  absence 
of  conscious  guile  in  appealing  to  her  reason  had  subjugated 
that  great  faculty. 

"  Simply  a  sense  of  propriety,  Emily,"  said  Mrs.  Shorne, 
with  a  glance  at  Ferdinand. 

"  You  have  no  objection,  I  suppose ! "  Lady  Jocelyn  ad- 
dressed him. 

"  Ferdinand  will  join  us,"  said  Rose. 

"Thank  you,  Rose,  I'd  rather  not,"  he  replied.  "I 
thought  we  had  done  with  the  fellow  for  good  last  night." 

"  Last  night  ?  "  quoth  Lady  Jocelyn. 

No  one  spoke.  The  interrogation  was  renewed.  Was  it 
Rose's  swift  instinct  which  directed  her  the  shortest  way  to 
gain  her  point  ?  or  that  she  was  glad  to  announce  that  her 
degrading  engagement  was  at  an  end  ?  She  said :  "  Ferdi- 
nand and  Mr.  Harrington  came  to  an  understanding  last 
night,  in  my  presence." 

That,  strange  as  it  struck  on  their  ears,  appeared  to  be 
quite  sufficient  to  all,  albeit  the  necessity  for  it  was  not  so 
very  clear.  The  carriage  was  ordered  forthwith;  Lady 
Jocelyn  went  to  dress ;  Rose  drew  Ferdinand  away  into  the 
garden.  Then,  with  all  her  powers,  she  entreated  him  to 
join  her. 

"  Thank  you.  Rose,"  he  said ;  "  I  have  no  taste  for  the 
genus." 

"  For  my  sake,  I  beg  it,  Ferdinand." 

"  It's  really  too  much  to  ask  of  me,  Rose." 

"  If  you  care  for  me,  you  will." 

"  'Pon  my  honour,  quite  impossible ! " 

"  You  refuse,  Ferdinand  ?  " 

"  My  London  tailor'd  find  me  out,  and  never  forgive  me." 


A  lovers'  parting  461 

This  pleasantry  stopped  her  soft  looks.  Why  she  wished 
him  to  be  with  her,  she  could  not  have  said.  For  a  thousand 
reasons :  which  implies  no  distinct  one :  something  prophet- 
ically pressing  in  her  blood. 


CHAPTER  XLVI 

A   LOVEKS'    PAKTING 


Now,  to  suppose  oneself  the  fashioner  of  such  a  chain  of 
events  as  this  which  brought  the  whole  of  the  Harrington 
family  in  tender  unity  together  once  more,  would  have  elated 
an  ordinary  mind.  But  to  the  Countess  de  Saldar,  it  was 
simply  an  occasion  for  reflecting  that  she  had  misunderstood 
—  and  could  most  sincerely  forgive  —  Providence.  She  ad- 
mitted to  herself  that  it  was  not  entirely  her  work ;  for  she 
never  would  have  had  their  place  of  meeting  to  be  the  Shop. 
Seeing,  however,  that  her  end  was  gained,  she  was  entitled 
to  the  credit  of  it,  and  could  pardon  the  means  adopted.  Her 
brother  lord  of  Beckley  Court,  and  all  of  them  assembled  in 
the  old  193,  Main  Street,  Lymport !  What  matter  for  proud 
humility  !  Providence  had  answered  her  numerous  petitions, 
but  in  its  own  way.  Stipulating  that  she  must  swallow  this 
pill,  Providence  consented  to  serve  her.  She  swallowed  it 
with  her  wonted  courage.  In  half  an  hour  subsequent  to 
her  arrival  at  Lymport,  she  laid  siege  to  the  heart  of  Old  Tom 
Cogglesby,  whom  she  found  installed  in  the  parlour,  com- 
fortably sipping  at  a  tumbler  of  rum-and-water.  Old  Tom 
was  astonished  to  meet  such  an  agreeable  unpretentious 
woman,  who  talked  of  tailors  and  lords  with  equal  ease, 
appeared  to  comprehend  a  man's  habits  instinctively,  and 
could  amuse  him  while  she  ministered  to  them. 

"  Can  you  cook,  ma'am  ?  "  asked  Old  Tom. 

"  All  but  that,"  said  the  Countess,  with  a  smile  of  sweet 
meaning. 

"  Ha !  then  you  won't  suit  me  as  well  as  your  mother." 

"  Take  care  you  do  not  excite  my  emulation,"  she  returned, 
graciously,  albeit  disgusted  at  his  tone. 


462  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

To  Harriet,  Old  Tom  had  merely  nodded.  There  he  sat, 
in  the  arm-chair,  sucking  the  liquor,  with  the  glimpse  of  a 
sour  chuckle  on  his  cheeks.  Now  and  then,  during  the 
evening,  he  rubbed  his  hands  sharply,  but  spoke  little.  The 
unbending  Harriet  did  not  conceal  her  disdain  of  him.  When 
he  ventured  to  allude  to  the  bankruptcy,  she  cut  him  short. 

"  Pray,  excuse  me  —  I  am  nnacquainted  with  affairs  of 
business  —  I  cannot  even  understand  my  husband." 

"  Lord  bless  my  soul ! "  Old  Tom  exclaimed,  rolling  his  eyes. 

Caroline  had  informed  her  sisters  up-stairs  that  their 
mother  was  ignorant  of  Evan's  change  of  fortune,  and  that 
Evan  desired  her  to  continue  so  for  the  present.  Caroline 
appeared  to  be  pained  by  the  subject,  and  was  glad  when 
Louisa  sounded  his  mysterious  behaviour  by  saying :  "  Evan 
has  a  native  love  of  concealment  —  he  must  be  humoured." 

At  the  supper,  Mr.  Raikes  made  his  bow.  He  was  modest 
and  reserved.  It  was  known  that  this  young  gentleman 
acted  as  shopman  there.  With  a  tenderness  for  his  position 
worthy  of  all  respect,  the  Countess  spared  his  feelings  by 
totally  ignoring  his  presence ;  whereat  he,  unaccustomed  to 
such  great-minded  treatment,  retired  to  bed,  a  hater  of  his 
kind.  Harriet  and  Caroline  went  next.  The  Countess  said 
she  would  wait  up  for  Evan,  but  hearing  that  his  hours  of 
return  were  about  the  chimes  of  matins,  she  cried  exult- 
ingly :  "  Darling  Papa  all  over ! "  and  departed  likewise. 
Mrs.  Mel,  when  she  had  mixed  Old  Tom's  third  glass,  wished 
the  brothers  good  night,  and  they  were  left  to  exchange 
what  sentiments  they  thought  proper  for  the  occasion.  The 
Countess  had  certainly  disappointed  Old  Tom's  farce,  in  a 
measure ;  and  he  expressed  himself  puzzled  by  her.  "  You 
ain't  the  only  one,"  said  his  brother.  Andrew,  with  some 
effort,  held  his  tongue  concerning  the  news  of  Evan — his 
fortune  and  his  folly,  till  he  could  talk  to  the  youth  in  person. 

All  took  their  seats  at  the  early  breakfast  next  morning. 

"  Has  Evan  not  come  home  yet  ?  "  was  the  Countess's  first 
question. 

Mrs.  Mel  replied,  "No." 

"  Do  you  know  where  he  has  gone,  dear  Mama  ?  " 

"  He  chooses  his  own  way." 

"And  you  fear  that  it  leads  somewhere?"  added  the 
Countess. 


A   LOVEKS'   PARTENG  463 

"  I  fear  that  it  leads  to  knocking  up  the  horse  he  rides." 

"The  horse,  Mama!  He  is  out  on  a  horse  all  night! 
But  don't  you  see,  dear  old  pet!  his  morals,  at  least,  are 
safe  on  horseback." 

"  The  horse  has  to  be  paid  for,  Louisa,"  said  her  mother, 
sternly ;  and  then,  for  she  had  a  lesson  to  read  to  the  guests 
of  her  son,  "Ready  money  doesn't  come  by  joking.  What 
will  the  creditors  think  ?  If  he  intends  to  be  honest  in 
earnest,  he  must  give  up  four-feet  mouths." 

"  Four^een-feet,  ma'am,  you  mean,"  said  Old  Tom,  count- 
ing the  heads  at  table. 

"  Bravo,  Mama ! "  cried  the  Countess,  and  as  she  was 
sitting  near  her  mother,  she  must  show  how  prettily  she 
kissed,  by  pouting  out  her  playful  lips  to  her  parent.  "  Do 
be  economical  always!  And  mind!  for  the  sake  of  the 
wretched  animals,  I  will  intercede  for  you  to  be  his  in- 
spector of  stables." 

This,  with  a  glance  of  intelligence  at  her  sisters. 

"Well,  Mr.  Raikes,"  said  Andrew,  "you  keep. good  hours, 
at  all  events  —  eh  ?  " 

"  Up  with  the  lark,"  said  Old  Tom.  "  Ha !  'f  raid  he  won't 
be  so  early  when  he  gets  rid  of  his  present  habits  —  eh  ?  " 

"Nee  dierum  numerum,  ut  nos,  sed  noctium  computant," 
said  Mr.  Raikes,  and  both  the  brothers  sniffed  like  dogs  that 
have  put  their  noses  to  a  hot  coal,  and  the  Countess,  who 
was  less  insensible  to  the  aristocracy  of  the  dead  languages 
than  are  women  generally,  gave  him  the  recognition  that  is 
occasionally  afforded  the  family  tutor. 

About  the  hour  of  ten  Evan  arrived.  He  was  subjected 
to  the  hottest  embrace  he  had  ever  yet  received  from  his 
sister  Louisa. 

"  Darling ! "  she  called  him  before  them  all.  "  Oh !  how  I 
suffer  for  this  ignominy  I  see  you  compelled  for  a  moment 
to  endure.  But  it  is  but  for  a  moment.  They  must  vacate ; 
and  you  will  soon  be  out  of  this  horrid  hole." 

"Where  he  just  said  he  was  glad  to  give  us  a  welcome," 
muttered  old  Tom. 

Evan  heard  him,  and  laughed.     The  Countess  laughed  too. 

"  No,  we  will  not  be  impatient.  We  are  poor  insignificant 
people ! "  she  said ;  and  turning  to  her  mother,  added :  "  And 
yet  I  doubt  not  you  think  the  smallest  of  our  landed  gentrj 


464  EVAN  HAREINGTON 

equal  to  great  continental  seigneurs.  I  do  not  say  the 
contrary." 

"  You  will  fill  Evan's  head  with  nonsense  till  you  make 
him  knock  up  a  horse  a  week,  and  never  go  to  his  natural 
bed,"  said  Mrs.  Mel,  angrily.  "Look  at  him!  Is  a  fa-^e 
like  that  fit  for  business  ?  " 

"  Certainly,  certainly  not !  "  said  the  Countess. 

"  Well,  Mother,  the  horse  is  dismissed,  —  you  won't  have 
to  complain  any  more,"  said  Evan,  touching  her  hand. 
"  Another  history  commences  from  to-day." 

The  Countess  watched  him  admiringly.  Such  powers  of 
acting  she  could  not  have  ascribed  to  him. 

"  Another  history,  indeed ! "  she  said.  "  By  the  way,  Van, 
love !  was  it  out  of  Glamorganshire  —  were  we  Tudors,  ac- 
cording to  Papa  ?  or  only  Powys  chieftains  ?  It's  of  no 
moment,  but  it  helps  one  in  conversation." 

"  Not  half  so  much  as  good  ale,  though ! "  was  Old  Tom's 
comment. 

The  Countess  did  not  perceive  its  fitness,  till  Evan  burst 
into  a  laugh,  and  then  she  said : 

"Oh!  we  shall  never  be  ashamed  of  the  Brewery.  Do 
not  fear  that,  Mr.  Cogglesby." 

Old  Tom  saw  his  farce  reviving,  and  encouraged  the 
Countess  to  patronize  him.  She  did  so  to  an  extent  that 
called  on  her  Mrs.  Mel's  reprobation,  which  was  so  cutting 
and  pertinent,  that  Harriet  was  compelled  to  defend  her 
sister,  remarking  that  perhaps  her  mother  would  soon  learn 
that  Louisa  was  justified  in  not  permitting  herself  and 
family  to  be  classed  too  low.  At  this  Andrew,  coming  from 
a  private  interview  with  Evan,  threw  up  his  hands  and  eyes 
as  one  who  foretold  astonishment  but  counselled  humility. 
What  with  the  effort  of  those  who  knew  a  little  to  imply  a 
great  deal ;  of  those  who  knew  all  to  betray  nothing ;  and 
of  those  who  were  kept  in  ignorance  to  strain  a  fact  out  of 
the  conflicting  innuendoes  the  general  mystification  waxed 
apace,  and  was  at  its  height,  when  a  name  struck  on  Evan's 
ear  that  went  through  his  blood  like  a  touch  of  the  torpedo. 

He  had  been  called  into  the  parlour  to  assist  at  a  con- 
sultation over  the  Brewery  affairs.  Raikes  opened  the  door, 
and  announced,  "  Sir  Franks  and  Lady  Jocelyn." 

Them  he  could  meet,  though  it  was  hard  for  his  pride  to 


A  lovers'  parting  465 

pardon  their  visit  to  him  there.  But  when  his  eyes  discerned 
Rose  behind  them,  the  passions  of  his  lower  nature  stood 
up  armed.  What  could  she  have  come  for  but  to  humiliate, 
or  play  with  him  ? 

A  very  few  words  enabled  the  Countess  to  guess  the  cause 
for  this  visit.  Of  course,  it  was  to  beg  time!  But  they 
thanked  Evan.  For  something  generous,  no  doubt.  Sir 
Franks  took  him  aside,  and  returning  remarked  to  his  wife 
that  she  perhaps  would  have  greater  influence  with  him. 
All  this  while  Rose  sat  talking  to  Mrs.  Andrew  Cogglesby, 
Mrs.  Strike,  and  Evan's  mother.  She  saw  by  his  face  the 
offence  she  had  committed,  and  acted  on  by  one  of  her 
impulses,  said :  "  Mama,  I  think  if  I  were  to  speak  to  Mr. 
Harrington " 

Ere  her  mother  could  make  light  of  the  suggestion,  Old 
Tom  had  jumped  up,  and  bowed  out  his  arm. 

"  Allow  me  to  conduct  ye  to  the  drawing-room,  up-stairs, 
young  lady.     He'll  follow,  safe  enough ! " 

Rose  had  not  stipulated  for  that.  Nevertheless,  seeing 
no  cloud  on  her  mother's  face,  or  her  father's,  she  gave  Old 
Tom  her  hand,  and  awaited  a  movement  from  Evan.  It  was 
too  late  to  object  to  it  on  either  side.  Old  Tom  had  caught 
the  tide  at  the  right  instant.  Much  as  if  a  grim  old  genie 
had  planted  them  together,  the  lovers  found  themselves 
alone. 

"  Evan,  you  forgive  me  ?  "  she  began,  looking  up  at  him 
timidly. 

"With  all  my  heart,  Rose,"  he  answered,  with  great 
cheerfulness. 

"No.  I  know  your  heart  better.  Oh,  Evan!  you  must 
be  sure  that  we  respect  you  too  much  to  wound  you.  We 
came  to  thank  you  for  your  generosity.  Do  you  refuse  to 
accept  anything  from  us?  How  can  we  take  this  that  you 
thrust  on  us,  unless  in  some  way  —  " 

"  Say  no  more,"  he  interposed.  "  You  see  me  here.  You 
know  me  as  I  am,  now." 

"  Yes,  yes !  "  the  tears  stood  in  her  eyes.  "  Why  did  I 
come,  you  would  ask  ?  That  is  what  you  cannot  forgive  1 
I  see  now  how  useless  it  was.  Evan !  why  did  you  betray 
me?" 

"  Betray  you,  Rose  ?  " 


466  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"  You  said  that  you  loved  me  once."  * 

She  was  weeping,  and  all  his  spirit  melted,  and  his  love 
cried  out:  "I  said  'till  death,'  and  till  death  it  will  be, 
Kose." 

"  Then  why,  why  did  you  betray  me,  Evan  ?  I  know  it 
all.  But  if  you  blackened  yourself  to  me,  was  it  not  because 
you  loved  something  better  than  me  ?  And  now  you  think 
/ae  false !  Which  of  us  two  has  been  false  ?  It's  silly  to 
talk  of  these  things  now  —  too  late!  But  be  just.  I  wish 
that  we  may  be  friends.  Can  we,  unless  you  bend  a 
little?" 

The  tears  streamed  down  her  cheeks,  and  in  her  lovely 
humility  he  saw  the  baseness  of  that  pride  of  his  which  had 
hitherto  held  him  up. 

"  Now  that  you  are  in  this  house  where  I  was  born  and 
am  to  live,  can  you  regret  what  has  come  between  us, 
Kose  ?  " 

Her  lips  quivered  in  pain. 

"  Can  I  do  anything  else  but  regret  it  all  my  life,  Evan  ?  " 

How  was  it  possible  for  him  to  keep  his  strength  ? 

"  Rose !  "  he  spoke  with  a  passion  that  made  her  shrink, 
"  are  you  bound  to  this  man  ?  "  and  to  the  drooping  of  her 
eyes,  "No.  Impossible,  for  you  do  not  love  him.  Break  it. 
Break  the  engagement  you  cannot  fulfil.  Break  it  and 
belong  to  me.  It  sounds  ill  for  me  to  say  that  in  such  a 
place.  But,  Rose,  I  will  leave  it.  I  will  accept  any  assist- 
ance that  your  father — that  any  man  will  give  me.  Beloved 
—  noble  girl !  I  see  my  falseness  to  you,  though  I  little 
thought  it  at  the  time  —  fool  that  I  was  !  Be  my  help,  my 
guide  —  as  the  soul  of  my  body !     Be  mine ! " 

"  Oh,  Evan !  "  she  clasped  her  hands  in  terror  at  the  change 
in  him,  that  was  hurrying  her  she  knew  not  whither,  and 
trembling,  held  them  supplicatingly. 

"  Yes,  Rose :  you  have  taught  me  what  love  can  be.  You 
cannot  marry  that  man." 

"  But,  my  honour,  Evan !  No.  I  do  not  love  him  ;  for 
I  can  love  but  one.     He  has  my  pledge.     Can  I  break  it  ?  " 

The  stress  on  the  question  choked  him,  just  as  his  heart 
sprang  to  her. 

"  Can  you  face  the  world  with  me.  Rose  ?  " 

"  Oh,  Evan  !  is  there  an  escape  for  me  ?    Think !    Decide ! 


A  lovers'  partinq  467 

No  —  no !  there  is  not.  My  mother,  I  know,  looks  on  it  so. 
Why  did  she  trust  me  to  be  with  you  here,  but  that  she 
thinks  me  engaged  to  him,  and  has  such  faith  in  me  ?  Oh, 
help  me !  —  be  my  guide.  Think  whether  you  would  trust 
me  hereafter !     I  should  despise  myself." 

"  Not  if  you  marry  him  ! "  said  Evan,  bitterly.  And  then 
thinking  as  men  will  think  when  they  look  on  the  figure  of 
a  fair  girl  marching  serenely  to  a  sacrifice,  the  horrors  of 
which  they  insist  that  she  ought  to  know :  —  half  hating  her 
for  her  calmness  —  adoring  her  for  her  innocence :  he  said : 
"  It  rests  with  you.  Rose.  The  world  will  approve  you,  and 
if  your  conscience  does,  why  —  farewell,  and  may  heaven  be 
your  help." 

She  murmured,  "Farewell." 

Did  she  expect  more  to  be  said  by  him  ?  What  did  she 
want  or  hope  for  now  ?  And  yet  a  light  of  hunger  grew  in 
her  eyes,  brighter  and  brighter,  as  it  were  on  a  wave  of 
yearning. 

"  Take  my  hand  once,"  she  faltered. 

Her  hand  and  her  whole  shape  he  took,  and  she  with 
closed  eyes  let  him  strain  her  to  his  breast. 

Their  swoon  was  broken  by  the  opening  of  the  door,  where 
Old  Tom  Cogglesby  and  Lady  Jocelyn  appeared. 

"'Gad!  he  seems  to  have  got  his  recompense  —  eh,  my 
lady?  "cried  Old  Tom. 

However  satisfactorily  they  might  have  explained  the  case, 
it  certainly  did  seem  so. 

Lady  Jocelyn  looked  not  absolutely  displeased.  Old  Tom 
was  chuckling  at  her  elbow.  The  two  principal  actors  re- 
mained dumb. 

"  I  suppose,  if  we  leave  young  people  to  settle  a  thing, 
this  is  how  they  do  it,"  her  ladyship  remarked. 

"'Gad,  and  they  do  it  well ! "  cried  Old  Tom. 

Rose,  with  a  deep  blush  on  her  cheeks,  stepped  from  Evan 
to  her  mother.  Not  in  effrontery,  but  earnestly,  and  as  the 
only  way  of  escaping  from  the  position,  she  said :  "  I  have 
succeeded,  Mama.     He  will  take  what  I  offer." 

"  And  what's  that,  now  ?  "  Old  Tom  inquired. 

Rose  turned  to  Evan.     He  bent  and  kissed  her  hand. 

"  Call  it  '  recompense '  for  the  nonce,"  said  Lady  Jocelyn. 
"  Do  you  still  hold  to  your  original  proposition,  Tom  ?  " 


468  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

"Every  penny,  my  lady.  I  like  the  young  fellow,  and 
she's  a  jolly  little  lass  —  if  she  means  it:  —  she's  a  woman." 

"  True,"  said  Lady  Jocelyn.  "  Considering  that  fact,  you 
will  oblige  me  by  keeping  the  matter  quiet." 

"  Does  she  want  to  try  whether  the  tailor's  a  gentleman 
still,  my  lady  — eh  ?  " 

"No.  I  fancy  she  will  have  to  see  whether  a  certain 
nobleman  may  be  one." 

The  Countess  now  joined  them.  Sir  Franks  had  informed 
her  of  her  brother's  last  fine  performance.  After  a  short, 
uneasy  pause,  she  said,  glancing  at  Evan : 

"  You  know  his  romantic  nature.  I  can  assure  you  he  was 
sincere;  and  even  if  you  could  not  accept,  at  least  —  " 

"  But  we  have  accepted,  Countess,"  said  Rose. 

"  The  estate !  " 

"The  estate,  Countess.  And  what  is  more,  to  increase 
the  effect  of  his  generosity,  he  has  consented  to  take  a 
recompense." 

"  Indeed ! "  exclaimed  the  Countess,  directing  a  stony  look 
at  her  brother.     "  May  I  presume  to  ask  what  recompense  ?  " 

Rose  shook  her  head.  "  Such  a  very  poor  one.  Countess ! 
He  has  no  idea  of  relative  value." 

The  Countess's  great  mind  was  just  then  rujining  hot  on 
estates,  and  thousands,  or  she  would  not  have  played  goose 
to  them,  you  may  be  sure.  She  believed  that  Evan  had  been 
wheedled  by  Rose  into  the  acceptance  of  a  small  sum  of 
money,  in  return  for  his  egregious  gift !  With  an  internal 
groan,  the  outward  aspect  of  which  she  had  vast  difficulty 
in  masking,  she  said :  "  You  are  right  —  he  has  no  head. 
Easily  cajoled ! " 

Old  Tom  sat  down  in  a  chair,  and  laughed  outright. 
Lady  Jocelyn,  in  pity  for  the  poor  lady,  who  always  amused 
her,  thought  it  time  to  put  an  end  to  the  scene. 

"  I  hope  your  brother  will  come  to  us  in  about  a  week," 
she  said.  "  May  I  expect  the  favour  of  your  company  as 
well  ?  " 

The  Countess  felt  her  dignity  to  be  far  superior  as  she  re- 
sponded: "Lady  Jocelyn,  when  next  I  enjoy  the  gratifica- 
tion of  a  visit  to  your  hospitable  mansion,  I  must  know  that 
I  am  not  at  a  disadvantage.  I  cannot  consent  to  be  twice 
pulled  down  to  my  brother's  level." 


A   LETTER   OF   THE  COUNTESS    .  469 

Evan's  heart  was  too  full  of  its  dim  young  happiness  to 
speak,  or  care  for  words.  The  cold  elegance  of  the  Count- 
ess's curtsey  to  Lady  Jocelyn :  her  ladyship's  kindly  press- 
ure of  his  hand :  Rose's  stedfast  look  into  his  eyes :  Old 
Tom's  smothered  exclamation  that  he  was  not  such  a  fool  as 
he  seemed :  all  passed  dream-like,  and  when  he  was  left  to 
the  fury  of  the  Countess,  he  did  not  ask  her  to  spare  him, 
nor  did  he  defend  himself.  She  bade  adieu  to  him  and  their 
mutual  relationship  that  very  day.  But  her  star  had  not 
forsaken  her  yet.  Chancing  to  peep  into  the  shop,  to  intrust 
a  commission  to  Mr.  John  Raikes,  who  was  there  doing  pen- 
ance for  his  career  as  a  gentleman,  she  heard  Old  Tom  and 
Andrew  laughing,  utterly  unlike  bankrupts. 

"  Who'd  have  thought  the  women  such  fools !  and  the 
Countess,  too ! " 

This  was  Andrew's  voice.  He  chuckled  as  one  emanci- 
pated. The  Countess  had  a  short  interview  with  him  (before 
she  took  her  departure  to  join  her  husband,  under  the  roof 
of  the  Honourable  Herbert  Duffian),  and  Andrew  chuckled 
no  more. 


CHAPTER  XLVII 


A  YEAB  LATER,  THE  COUNTESS  DE  SALDAB  DE  8ANC0BV0  TO 
HER  SISTER  CAROLINE 

"  Borne. 

"  Let  the  post-mark  be  my  reply  to  your  letter  received 
through  the  Consulate,  and  most  courteously  delivered  with 
the  Consul's  compliments.  "We  shall  yet  have  an  ambassa- 
dor at  Rome  —  mark  your  Louisa's  words.  Yes,  dearest !  I 
am  here,  body  and  spirit !  I  have  at  last  found  a  haven,  a 
refuge,  and  let  those  who  condemn  me  compare  the  peace  of 
their  spirits  with  mine.  You  think  that  you  have  quite  con- 
quered the  dreadfulness  of  our  origin.  My  love,  I  smile  at 
you !  I  know  it  to  be  impossible  for  the  Protestant  heresy 
to  offer  a  shade  of  consolation.  Earthly-born,  it  rather 
encourages  earthly  distinctions.     It  is  the  sweet  sovereign 


470  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

Pontiff  alone  who  gathers  all  in  his  arms,  not  excepting 
tailors.  Here,  if  they  could  know  it,  is  their  blessed 
comfort ! 

"  Thank  Harriet  for  her  message.  She  need  say  nothing. 
By  refusing  me  her  hospitality,  when  she  must  have  known 
that  the  house  was  as  free  of  creditors  as  any  foreigner  under 
the  rank  of  Count  is  of  soap,  she  drove  me  to  Mr.  DuflBan. 
Oh !  how  I  rejoice  at  her  exceeding  unkindness !  How 
warmly  I  forgive  her  the  unsisterly  —  to  say  the  least  — 
vindictiveness  of  her  unaccountable  conduct!  Her  suffer- 
ings will  one  day  be  terrible.  Good  little  Andrew  supplies 
her  place  to  me.  Why  do  you  refuse  his  easily  afforded 
bounty  ?  No  one  need  know  of  it.  I  tell  you  candidly, 
I  take  double,  and  the  small  good  punch  of  a  body  is  only 
too  delighted.     But  then,  /  can  be  discreet. 

"  Oh !  the  gentlemanliness  of  these  infinitely  maligned 
Jesuits !  They  remind  me  immensely  of  Sir  Charles  Gran- 
dison,  and  those  frontispiece  pictures  to  the  novels  we  read 
when  girls  —  I  mean  in  manners  and  the  ideas  they  impose 
—  not  in  dress  or  length  of  leg,  of  course.  The  same  win- 
ning softness ;  the  same  irresistible  ascendancy  over  the 
female  mind !  They  require  virtue  for  two,  I  assure  you, 
and  so  I  told  Silva,  who  laughed. 

"  But  the  charms  of  confession,  my  dear !  I  will  talk  of 
Evan  first.  I  have  totally  forgiven  him.  Attache  to  the 
Naples  embassy,  sounds  tol-lol.  In  such  a  position  I  can 
rejoice  to  see  him,  for  it  permits  me  to  acknowledge  him.  I 
am  not  sure  that,  spiritually,  Rose  will  be  his  most  fitting 
helpmate.  However,  it  is  done,  and  I  did  it,  and  there  is  no 
more  to  be  said.  The  behaviour  of  Lord  Laxley  in  refusing 
to  surrender  a  young  lady  who  declared  that  her  heart  was 
with  another,  exceeds  all  /  could  have  supposed.  One  of  the 
noble  peers  among  his  ancestors  must  have  been  a  pig  !  Oh ! 
the  Roman  nobility  !  Grace,  refinement,  intrigue,  perfect 
comprehension  of  your  ideas,  wishes  —  the  meanest  trifles ! 
Here  you  have  every  worldly  charm,  and  all  crowned  by 
Religion  !  This  is  my  true  delight.  I  feel  at  last  that  what- 
soever I  do,  I  cannot  go  far  wrong  while  I  am  within  hail 
of  my  gentle  priest.     I  never  could  feel  so  before. 

"  The  idea  of  Mr.  Parsley  proposing  for  the  beautiful  widow 
Strike !     It  was  indecent  to  do  so  so  soon  —  widowed  under 


A   LETTER   OF   THE   COUNTESS  471 

such  circumstances !  But  I  dare  say  he  was  as  disinterested 
as  a  Protestant  curate  ever  can  be.  Beauty  is  a  good  dowry 
to  bring  a  poor,  lean,  worldly  curate  of  your  Church,  and  he 
knows  that.  Youi  bishops  and  arches  are  quite  susceptible 
to  beautiful  petitioners,  and  we  know  here  how  your  livings 
and  benefices  are  dispensed.  What  do  you  intend  to  do? 
Come  to  me ;  come  to  the  bosom  of  the  old  and  the  only  true 
Church,  and  I  engage  to  marry  you  to  a  Roman  prince  the 
very  next  morning  or  two.  That  is,  if  you  have  no  ideas 
about  prosecuting  a  certain  enterprise  which  /  should  not 
abandon.  In  that  case,  stay.  As  Duchess  of  B.,  Mr.  Duffian 
says  you  would  be  cordially  welcome  to  his  Holiness,  who 
may  see  women.  That  absurd  report  is  all  nonsense.  We 
do  not  kiss  his  toe,  certainly,  but  we  have  privileges  equally 
enviable.  Herbert  is  all  charm.  I  confess  he  is  a  little 
wearisome  with  his  old  ruins,  and  his  Dante,  the  poet.  He 
is  quite  of  my  opinion,  that  Evan  will  never  wash  out  the 
trade  stain  on  him  until  he  comes  over  to  the  Church  of 
Rome.  I  adjure  you,  Caroline,  to  lay  this  clearly  before  our 
dear  brother.  In  fact,  while  he  continues  a  Protestant,  to  me 
he  is  a  tailor.  But  here  Rose  is  the  impediment.  I  know 
her  to  be  just  one  of  those  little  dogged  minds  that  are  inca- 
pable of  receiving  new  impressions.  Was  it  not  evident  in 
the  way  she  stuck  to  Evan  after  I  had  once  brought  them 
together  ?  I  am  not  at  all  astonished  that  Mr.  Raikes  should 
have  married  her  maid.  It  is  a  case  of  natural  selection.  But 
it  is  amusing  to  think  of  him  carrying  on  the  old  business  in 
193,  and  with  credit!  I  suppose  his  parents  are  to  be 
pitied ;  but  what  better  is  the  creature  fit  for  ?  Mama 
displeases  me  in  consenting  to  act  as  housekeeper  to  old 
Grumpus.  I  do  not  object  to  the  fact,  for  it  is  prospective ; 
but  she  should  have  insisted  on  another  place  of  resort  than 
Fallowfield.  I  do  not  agree  with  you  in  thinking  her  right 
in  refusing  a  second  marriage.  Her  age  does  not  shelter  her 
from  scandal  in  your  Protestant  communities. 

"  I  am  every  day  expecting  Harry  Jocelyn  to  turn  up.  He 
was  rightly  sent  away,  for  to  think  of  the  folly  Evan  put 
into  his  empty  head !  No ;  he  shall  have  another  wife,  and 
Protestantism  shall  be  his  forsaken  mistress ! 

"See  how  your  Louy  has  given  up  the  world  and  its 
vanities !     You  expected  me  to  creep  up  to  you  contrite  and 


472  EVAN  HARRINGTON 

whimpering  ?  On  the  contrary,  I  never  felt  prouder.  And 
I  am  not  going  to  live  a  lazy  life,  I  can  assure  you.  The 
Church  hath  need  of  me !  If  only  for  the  peace  it  hath  given 
me  on  one  point,  I  am  eternally  bound  to  serve  it. 

"Postscript:  I  am  persuaded  of  this;  that  it  is  utterly 
impossible  for  a  man  to  be  a  true  gentleman  who  is  not  of  the 
true  Church.  What  it  is  I  cannot  say ;  but  it  is  as  a  convei-t 
that  I  appreciate  my  husband.  Love  is  made  to  me,  dear, 
for  Catholics  are  human.  The  other  day  it  was  a  question 
whether  a  lady  or  a  gentleman  should  be  compromised.  It 
required  the  grossest  fib.  The  gentleman  did  not  hesitate. 
And  why  ?  His  priest  was  handy.  Fancy  Lord  Laxley  in  such 
a  case.  I  shudder.  This  shows  that  your  religion  precludes 
any  possibility  of  the  being  the  real  gentleman,  and  whatever 
Evan  may  think  of  himself,  or  Eose  think  of  him,  I  know 
the  thing." 


THE  END 


UNIVERSITY  OF  CALIFORNIA  LIBRARY,  LOS  ANGELES 

COLLEGE  LIBRARY 

This  book  is  due  on  the  last  date  stamped  below. 


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